Ghost Rider: Blaze's Legacy
by DarthFissure95
Summary: Johnny Blaze, stunt performer, is also the lethal Ghost Rider, a flaming demon with the purpose of exacting vengeance on guilty people. At the same time Tony Stark's popularity rises as Iron Man, Blaze struggles against the evil Deathwatch, who threatens to snatch away the power of the Ghost Rider and use it against the one who cursed Blaze with that power to begin with: Mephisto.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Finally back to with a brand new fanfic series! As a note, this one takes place in the Marvel Cinematic Universe, which will become increasingly apparent over time. To anyone obsessed with timelines, this takes place during and after the first** ** _Iron Man_** **movie. Let me know what you guys think of the first chapter!**

*"Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy Kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth, as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us—forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those that trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil."

 _Yeah_. _Right_. _Deliver us from evil_.

Jonathan Blaze was sitting on a bench right outside an old, abandoned chapel. It was the dead of night, and while Blaze wished that the streets were quieter and less cars passed by, it served as fair solitude from the thing he hated bearing.

In both his hands he held a small pocket Bible, which was open to the book of Matthew, with the Lord's Prayer highlighted in dark blood-red ink. The prayer's words felt like a fresh drink of water from the cleanest spring the world had. Citing the words lightened his Burden, and on top of that, no evil spirits had any control as long as he was right by the chapel.

It was said that St. Joseph himself built the church, and because of his role, God's presence was particularly strong within its walls, making it a safe haven for Burdened people like Blaze. Unfortunately, it didn't make the fight any easier. He could feel the spirit of vengeance inside him pushing and kicking to take control of him and unleash its powers. His head felt like dozens of needles were being violently shoved through his skin, and small wisps of smoke trailed from his fingers, threatening to burn the holy words he held.

 _Well fancy that_. _You're basically fighting your own 'super powers'_.

Relief washed over Blaze when his best friend Flagg Simpson came in his car and laid his hand on the horn. Without waiting even for a second for Blaze to get up, Flagg rolled down his window. He was a tall man with black hair that looked as though he had just rolled out of bed, and shiny, blue eyes.

"Hey, you done memorizing your Sunday school scripture verses or should I come back later?"

"Screw you," Blaze replied, but he was smiling. The smoke stopped wafting off his hands and the intense heat he had felt just seconds ago switched off as if he was a heater that someone could turn on and off at will. He headed for Flagg's car and got into the passenger seat.

"Since when did you start attending church?" Flagg asked.

"When I realized I needed time away from you," Blaze teased.

"Fair enough."**

*Susie's Diner was a place that was never updated since its construction in 1946. Going in was like walking through a time portal that took Blaze and Flagg into the past. The music playing over the intercom was 40s heartthrob music and one wall had pictures of World War II heroes lined up.

"Usual round?" The waitress from the counter asked.

"That's right," Flagg called back. One side of Blaze's mouth pulled up in a smirk. He was watching Flagg's gaze. His friend could barely look the waitress in the eye. That was because he liked her, as in _like_ liked her. It would've been funnier had Blaze not had to be with him to feel embarrassed for his best friend.

Once the two of them sat down, Blaze started in. "I remember simpler times when you were able to look me in the eye the whole time while we sit here."

"I wish it was simpler, but—," Flagg stole another glance at the waitress, "she can't help the fact that she looks the way she looks."

"Her name is Jennifer. You better learn to get that right, or you won't get _anywhere_ with this."

"What's that?" Jennifer asked as she approached the table. In one hand she held a pot of steaming black coffee. It wasn't hard at all for Blaze to see what Flagg saw. She was indeed a beautiful woman with the same shade of blue in her eyes that Flagg had. Her blond hair was long and curly and she wore a pure white long shirt and purple leggings.

Blaze smiled weakly and Flagg sank his face in his hands. "Nothing," Blaze said, "it's just that Flagg wanted to talk to you."

"Oh?" Jennifer asked as she poured coffee into Flagg's mug. She handed Blaze his own usual. A glass of ice cold water.

"I—It's nothing important. Just wanted to know how things are going with you and your sister," Flagg said.

"I don't have a sister, I have a brother," Jennifer pointed out.

Blaze saw whatever confidence his friend had left in his eyes instantly flicker and die out.

"Oh. Right. How is he?"

"Doing time in a cell."

Flagg's jaw dropped halfway. His eyes were pleading to Blaze for help but he nodded to urge him to keep going.

"I'm sorry, I had no idea."

"It's alright. We saw it coming for a while now."

"Oh?"

"My brother always never seemed to get things straightened out. Always meeting out late with friends of his, and they always had something irresistible for him to chew on."

"Yo Jennifer, bring some of that black coffee over here for me," another customer yelled several booths away.

Jennifer moved on without saying anything else. Blaze sipped from his glass.

"That was the most entertaining conversation I've ever watched," he commented.

"Screw you, dude. You didn't do anything to help."

" _You're_ the one with the teenage crush, I'm just watching. It's like a train wreck that you can't look away from."

"No thanks to you," Flagg said with a sigh. "I'm just praying I don't screw this up. Do you ever do that? Pray, I mean?"

Blaze smirked. "Last time I bothered praying for something, I got swindled out of my soul."

"Wow. How very dramatic. So I take it the results weren't good, then?"

"Nope. Just fire and despair."

Flagg laughed and raised his mug of coffee. "Well at least we get to go through fire and despair together."

Blaze took up his glass of water. "You have no idea."

"Here's to being the biggest screw-ups and proud," Flagg said. The two of them clinked cups. Blaze was smiling, but inside he could hear the voice chanting.

 _It's time_ , _it's time, it's time_.

When Flagg got up and left for the night, Jennifer passed on a handwritten note on to Blaze. As soon as Jennifer went back around the counter, Blaze unfolded the note and read it.

 _Does Flagg like me_?

Blaze smiled, crumpled up the note, and put it back in his pocket.

 _Kids_.

The voice continued in his head.

 _It's time_ , _it's time_ , _it's time_.**

*Blaze lived in a carnival. He wasn't afraid to admit it anymore. As the son of a motorcycle stuntman, he had no problem with continuing his late father's line of work, which gave him a successful career, even if he felt like he wanted to do something more.

But he _did_ have something more. Something that was forced on him, and he couldn't share it with anyone else.

He stood in a private garage of his own isolated from the rest of Quentin's Carnival, where his own motorcycle sat waiting. On the wall above the tool desk was a large poster of his father, Barton Blaze. He looked so happy in the poster, unlike how Blaze really knew him. With a wide grin, a thumbs-up to the beholder, and his motorcycle helmet underneath one arm, Barton stood tall and proud.

Besides the poster, nothing truly stuck out in the garage or really reflected who Blaze was with the exception of the small fridge filled with beer set next to the desk.

 _It's time_. _Go_.

"What is it time for? Where am I supposed to go? You can't control me, remember?" Blaze said.

 _A deal was struck_.

"The one I looked to to make a deal screwed me over. I owe him nothing."

 _But I am a part of you now and there's nothing you can do about that_.

"I owe him _nothing_!" Blaze snapped. His hand threw down the beer bottle he was holding, and it shattered into pieces on the floor, splashing alcohol in the process.

 _It's not about what you owe him_. _It's about what you and I both want_.

"You and I don't want the same thing."

 _Vengeance_.

"No."

 _You know you want it_.

"I do…"

 _Well then_?

"Not like that. I won't seek vengeance like that, not as that—the other guy."

 _You can't fight that power much longer, Blaze_.

"Its been a little over a month now, and we've gone through this same crap almost every night."

 _You hunger for vengeance more than you know_.

"What makes you think that?" Blaze asked.

 _Because I'm still here_ , _which means your work is not yet finished_.

Blaze looked over at his motorcycle, Hellcycle. A 'black beauty' as he liked to call it around people who would be more sensitive to its real name. He could hear the roar of the engine before he started it up, and he could feel the spirit of vengeance inside him growing hot as he backed out of his garage and into the dead of night in Santa Fe.**

*Even at night, the godforsaken heat in Santa Fe was still not very restrained. By the time Blaze found his targets, his throat felt bone-dry and he had to spit dust and sand out of his mouth.

While he had not allowed the one inside him to come out, he still used some of the heightened senses got along with the spirit of vengeance. He could sense the guilty spirits inside the run-down apartment building. It put a foul taste in his mouth and set his stomach ablaze. His vision darkened once he entered the building and when he walked up a flight of stairs and made it to the apartment door, he could see the shadows of the guilty on the other side waving their arms and laughing as if the whole world was one big, fat joke.

The door was locked, but when Blaze turned the doorknob, the lock immediately caved and snapped, allowing him inside.

"Whoa, dude! What the hell?" Someone inside shouted. Several men leaped to their feet from the couch. One of the other guys was still sitting on the couch, too high to focus or catch on.

"What are you doing here?" The same man asked.

"I got bored," Blaze replied.

"You've come to the right place then."

One of the men ran at Blaze to tackle him down, but Blaze easily grabbed him by the throat and tossed him up off his feet into the ceiling. The man came back down unconscious.

When the next thug lunged at him, Blaze jolted his head back to avoid the thug's sideways swing. He grabbed his wrist, pulled him around, and let him go with enough force for him to fly through the door, knocking it straight off its hinges.

The last alert man wrapped his arm around Blaze's neck in a chokehold, but Blaze was ready for it. He pushed back, driving the man back with him and slammed him against the refrigerator. The man let loose a groan but still held on as tightly as he could.

 _Just for one second_. _You just have to do it for a second_.

The man screamed and immediately let go when a brief burst of fire shot through Blaze's body, burning the man's arm. Blaze whirled around and struck the man across the face. The man staggered to the side, removed a hidden knife from his belt and slashed it across Blaze's cheek. A deep cut formed there, drawing blood fast.

"You shouldn't have done that," Blaze said.

The thug looked on in disbelief as the broken skin pieced itself back together, healing the wound and making it look as though it was never there.

Blaze delivered one last punch, and the thug flew across the room like a rag doll and collided against a hutch with a glass door, shattering the glass instantly and knocking the man out cold.

As if he was holding up cards in a gambling game, Blaze picked up the little bags of meth from the coffee counter. He looked over at the drugged up man on the couch, who was staring up at him laughing with an insane edge.

"Who gave you these?" Blaze asked.

Somehow, the question made the addict laugh even more, as if it was the funniest thing in the world. Deciding he wasn't going to get anywhere with him, he threw the bags aside and left, carefully stepping over the fallen door as he did so. Behind him, the man's laughter grew even louder and more out of control.

When Blaze made it outside, he sank on one knee and pressed his hand against his forehead. As soon as it touched, the skin of his forehead coughed up a puff of smoke.**

*Black coat on, zipper up, crowds cheering, bright lights blinding, Flagg.

The same routine every time and Blaze still got an adrenaline rush just as strong as the very first time he had ever done a motorcycle stunt.

Unfortunately, he still remembered the men he fought in the apartment the other night. He still remembered the laughter from the last man when he left.

"Blaze? Blaze, dude, wake up!" Flagg said, gently slapping Blaze on the cheek. Blaze's focus violently shifted and his gaze fell on Flagg again.

"Hey! He is risen! Go on man, they're waiting on you!" Flagg urged.

Blaze shook himself out of his thoughts and held out his hand for his helmet, which Flagg gave to him.

"How many more?" Blaze asked.

"What?"

"How many more times do I have to do this?"

"You're here. You're all dressed up. You obviously don't mind," Flagg pointed out.

 _He's right_. _I hate to admit it but he's right_.

Blaze slid his helmet on, hiding all but his eyes from everyone else.

"That's my man," Flagg said.

Blaze got onto his motorcycle, stole one last glance at Flagg, and revved it up. From the court he could hear the owner of the carnival, Ralph Quentin himself.

"Ladies and gentlemen, put your hands together for our greatest motorcycle stuntman in this carnival! The one, the only, _Jonathan Blaze_!"

Blaze's motorcycle tore through the dirt and sand and bolted up the sharp ramp. Below him were the helicopters with their rotor blades spinning.

For yet another time, Blaze was up in the air. Everyone was looking on, wondering if he would die.

" _The fools_. _They don't know that you can't die_."

 _True_ , _but I can fail_.

In the air it was as if time had slowed. Blaze didn't have to make a sideways glance to know that Craig Simpson, Flagg's father, was watching him with skeptical eyes and his arms folded.

 _My father died here_. _I won't_.

Even after ten years, Blaze still told himself the same thing every time he flew up a ramp. It was what helped him stay focused and keep himself from falling off. He had to have faith in his momentum, which was the only thing keeping him from falling into the spinning blades.

Finally, mercifully, Hellcycle landed on the other side and flawlessly flew down the second ramp. He stomped his foot into the dirt and spun the motorcycle around in a one-eighty. Sparks flew and his ride stopped. Amongst his heavy breathing and his sweat-soaked skin, the crowd went wild.

"That was fantastic! Wouldn't you agree? Wouldn't you agree?" Quentin shouted in his microphone. His words caused the crowd to get louder and wilder, which even overwhelmed Blaze. Flagg ran by his side to help him out of his helmet.

"That was awesome, man! You won Santa Fe's heart over!"

Blaze didn't reply. He stared up at the crowds as if they were about to riot and burn the place down.

"Hey man, are you alright?" Flagg asked.

"I need a beer," Blaze replied.**

*The stunts were not Blaze's favorite part of the day. It was always the drinking at Maria's afterwards. Maria's was a bar in Santa Fe, known specially for its margaritas. Blaze and Flagg also sat in the same seats in front of the counter, sipping away and exchanging glances once in a while. It was a quiet time, a time meant to reflect on the event of Blaze's latest stunt and on the whole day in general.

"I don't know why we have to move again later," Flagg said.

Blaze sighed. "I thought we don't talk for at least ten minutes."

"I know, I know, but—aren't you just getting tired of moving around?"

"If I was tired of it, I would've left the carnival without an announcement, like someone else I know did one time," Blaze said.

Flagg frowned and put his glass down. "You're really going to bring that up?"

Blaze squeezed his eyes when he realized his mistake. "Sorry."

"No, tell me. Tell me you're still mad at me."

"I'm not mad, it's just a fact that it happened."

"You welcomed me back with open arms though. Both you _and_ dad. I thought we had already put that behind us," Flagg said.

Blaze sighed again. "We did."

There was an awkward moment of silence. Blaze could feel Flagg's gaze burrowing into him as if to find something inside that would give him answers.

Blaze reverted his gaze somewhere else, locking on to the tall man sitting two stools away from him. His heartbeat quickened and his arms turned wet from an unexpected heat rush. For a split second, he thought he saw bloodstains all over the man's face and shirt and arms. Blood dripped from his ears.

After blinking however, all of it was gone, but Blaze knew what he had just seen.

" _Guilty_."

 _No_ , _not here_. _Not here_!

The man had a crooked grin on his face and his gaze was fixed on a young woman behind the counter whose back was to him now. The man's eyes hopped up and down as they admired her.

It wasn't just the spirit of vengeance inside Blaze that was egging him on. He himself hated what he saw with a passion.

"Hey," Flagg said.

When Blaze snapped back to reality, he realized that most of the other sounds in the bar were blurred while he was watching the pervert sitting next to him. Flagg was holding up his glass.

"To your success," he said with a hopeful smile.

Blaze let slip a half-smile and picked up his own glass.

"To _our_ success."

The two clinked glasses and took another sip simultaneously.

"Hey, I have a question," Flagg said when they were done. "Why do we toast to everything?"**

*Flagg soon left, claiming he wanted to go to bed early, which was fine with Blaze considering the growing circumstances. He wasn't finished with his margarita. He had just enough for one more swig which he was saving for the right moment. A second man, shorter and bigger than the other as well as Asian had sat down next to Tall Pervert and was giving the bartender the same distasteful stare.

After scrubbing the last glass, the young woman turned to the older woman that managed the counter.

"Am I good to go, Ms. Sarah?"

"Yeah, go on sweetie. I'll close up shop."

Blaze's fingers tapped the handle of his margarita glass as he watched the woman, whose name tag said Lara, leave the counter to go home. The two men next to him stood up as subtly as they could and slowly followed her.

 _Now time_.

Blaze took the last swig from his margarita, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and followed the men in turn. In the dark, the heat was yet again a problem for Blaze as the heat in the air and the heat inside him collided together to create an overwhelming force. He blinked tears out of his eyes and tried to keep his gaze set on the thugs that were following Lara.

Smoke and sweat rolled off of Blaze like a tangent that wouldn't stop and he breathed through his nose as hard as he could. One hand strayed towards his pocket to feel the end of something he had inside.

 _Please don't be planning what I think you're planning_ , Blaze thought about the thugs.

Once Lara reached the front door of her house, Tall Pervert grabbed her by the shoulder and spun her around so that she was staring right up at him.

"Let us inside with you," he ordered.

Lara dug into her purse to snatch something up, possibly a pepper spray, but Tall Pervert wrenched the purse out of her hands and tossed it aside. A pocket knife flashed in his hand.

"Last warning," he bellowed.

Everyone's attention was so fixated on the moment, that they didn't notice a long-haired man with a black jacket on his knees on the sidewalk trying to keep himself from turning. More and more smoke trailed off of him and tiny fires began to lick his face.

 _No_! _No_!

"Or maybe you'd prefer for us to do it out here," Shorter suggested. He reached out to grab Lara's arm and pin it to the door.

"No! Stop!" Lara screamed.

It was Lara's words that finally caused Johnny Blaze to snap.

The skin on his face melted away, revealing a clean, white skull underneath with blue fire dancing in its eye sockets. An upside-down cone of fire exploded from the skull's head but didn't burn it. With a bony, skeletal hand, the thing that had taken Blaze's place reached into its pocket and pulled out a long black chain that had also burst into flames.

The thing looked up at the sky and screamed one word. " _FREEEEEEEEEEE!_ "

Tall Pervert and Shorter had just succeeded in knocking Lara out cold, but they forgot everything about her when they turned around and saw the monster from hell before them.

"Oh my—oh my go— _aaah_!"

The thing whipped its chain forward, which seemed to magically extend itself as it flew, and the end wrapped itself around Tall Pervert's leg. The thing pulled the chain back, tossing Tall Pervert towards it. It grabbed him by the neck and lifted him in the air.

"Who are you?" Tall Pervert cried.

The thing's neck popped as it looked up to gaze into Pervert's eyes. "You will suffer, as the innocent had suffered, for I am the Ghost Rider," it said. Its voice was low and scratchy. It wasn't human. It was Zarathos, the spirit of vengeance contained within the body of Johnny Blaze, granting him the power to deal out justice to people who deserved it.

After a few more seconds of Ghost Rider staring into Pervert's eyes, Zarathos was inside Pervert's mind, tearing it apart to find anything and everything that made him guilty of sin.

Inside Ghost Rider's head, Blaze's conscience remained silent. He too believed that Tall Pervert deserved justice upon him.

Inside Pervert's mind was blood. Lots of blood. The blood of whole families, including children, was splattered everywhere in a long, shadowy hallway. Blaze could smell the metal stench of blood so strongly he could taste it in his mouth. There were screams, screams of the dying and ones that had made it out alive, but one thing was for sure. Pervert hadn't just killed, he had terrorized others by killing some and leaving others behind to grieve.

Blaze saw a woman with some of her hair torn out, revealing a bloody, bald spot on her head and she was crying so hard that she was coughing. At her feet was a pool of blood that was coming from a dead man with a slit neck. Blaze realized that that had been her husband.

Other visions showed children in peril, but Blaze didn't have the heart to focus on the details. Even while Ghost Rider was in control, he could control what he himself saw.

Tall Pervert screamed as his skin began to peel away and burn, and his head turned to ashes. What Ghost Rider was doing to him was the penance stare, a powerful ability that caused his victims to suffer through everything the innocent people he had harmed suffered through. Eventually, Tall Pervert's entire body crumbled to ashes and blew away in the wind, his soul destined to relive the horrifying experiences for eternity.

The other man, Shorter, had been so terror-stricken by what had happened that he hadn't even thought to run. His legs shook so hard he was in danger of falling down the porch stairs. Ghost Rider wanted to waste no time with him. He walked up to Shorter with his chain trailing behind him. In a desperate move, Shorter took out his own knife and slashed it across Ghost Rider's face. Several teeth popped off.

"Ouch," Ghost Rider said, but the move didn't seem to have harmed him at all.

He picked up Shorter and tossed him against the porch fence. The fence snapped and fell with him into the bushes below.

"Wait!" Shorter yelled. He came back up with a line of blood dribbling off his chin.

The Asian man's whole demeanor changed. His fear changed into something else. His eyes widened further and his lips curled up into a hideous grin that revealed a missing tooth with a bloody gap where it used to be. He started laughing maniacally.

Blaze's conscience forced Ghost Rider to stop.

 _Just like the guy from the other night_.

"You're—you're done for."

Ghost Rider took a step forward to intimidate him, but Shorter kept laughing.

"There is someone more powerful than you. More powerful than any of us. And he's coming. He's coming for _you_ ," Shorter mocked.

 _What does he mean_? _Zarathos_ , _what does he mean_?

Before Ghost Rider could take another step, Shorter brought his knife up to his neck and slit a straight path through the skin. He was dead before Ghost Rider could grab him.

Ghost Rider was left behind vulnerable, allowing Blaze to take his form back and take control of his body again. Lara was lying still unconscious behind him, much to Blaze's luck.

 _What did the man mean_? _Who's coming for me_?

" _An excellent question_. _We need to find out_. _Together_ ," Zarathos replied.

"But how? How do we know he's even in the city?"

" _If he is_ , _we'll find him soon enough_."

Blaze looked back down at the body of the Asian. "We need to get rid of the body," he said aloud.**

*In Flagg's bedroom, no lights were on except his laptop light brightening up Flagg's glum face. A trembling finger stayed just inches away from the left mouse button as he contemplated whether or not what he was about to do was really worth it.

Quentin said that his dad was getting worse. Any time now, Flagg could lose his father, and one more opportunity to make him proud and best Blaze in front of him. If there was any time for action, it was now.

What he was about to do was illegal, but that was mostly how his father had risen to fame. He had only learned to be a stuntman fair and square once he ran out of the resources to get ahead of the game quicker than most people.

Flagg would be meeting with black market dealers that would be willing to trade with him. If Flagg cooperated, he would get energy capsules that could fuel his motorcycle and make it faster and more mobile. These capsules contained blue energy gas created by the late Howard Stark himself by converting a crude version of a superhuman serum into a gas. It was useful to Stark then, and now it was going to be useful to Flagg.

Flagg thought about how Blaze brought up in the bar the fact that he had left the carnival and the family at one point, leaving Flagg to believe that Blaze was still angry at him. The memory motivated Flagg for the last time.

He pushed the button to order the capsules.


	2. Chapter 2

In the dark of night under a starless sky, a tall man terrified for his life leaped out the window of an apartment. He fell and landed on the dumpster with a cry and slumped off onto the concrete. His lungs screamed for breath as he tried to get it back.

 _What the hell was that thing_? _What the hell was that thing_?

Once he got back up, clutching his torn shoulder, his head jerked up when he heard an animalistic roar coming from the window he had jumped out of. His eyes bulged and he bolted, keeping one hand on his shoulder.

He was being chased by something away from his home, so he had to retreat somewhere else. He ran onto the sidewalk and after a while he turned and barged into a restaurant. He pushed aside anyone that stood in his way and headed straight for the kitchen. Once inside, he grabbed one of the cooks who was holding a butcher knife.

 _Perfect_.

"Hey! What are you doing?!" The chef cried.

"Shut up!" The man snapped back. He wrenched the knife from the chef's hand and held it at his neck as he continued to lead him away, abandoning all the other cooks that looked on in shock.

"Make one move and I chop this through his neck!" The man threatened. He kicked the back door open and made it into the back alley behind the building.

"Let's talk this out! I barely make enough to get by!" The cook pleaded.

"Shut up!" The man screamed again.

For a brief moment, everything was quiet. Then, there was the sound of a chain being dragged along concrete.

The man's grip on the knife tightened and he pressed it against the chef's neck, drawing blood. Every breath the man made came and left through his nose and sweat streamed down about every inch of his face.

The next sound that accompanied the clinking of the chain sounded like a raven screaming as its being strangled. The man's heart froze and the cook began to moan as the knife dug deeper into his skin.

Finally, someone came around the corner. He was dragging a chain across the sidewalk with him and he wore a yellow mask that covered everything except his eyes and he also wore a black jacket.

"Take one more step and I kill him! I'm serious!" The tall man screamed.

Then the last thing he expected happened. The chain his pursuer was carrying mysteriously caught on fire. The chef went limp in the man's grip as he fell unconscious. The last thing the man remembered before he died was the flaming chain extending towards him and wrapping itself around his neck as he screamed for help.

What he didn't know was that the chain had removed his head by completely disintegrating his neck, both flesh and bone.

To get back home on his motorcycle, Johnny had to pass by Susie's Diner. He stopped for a moment and was able to see Flagg talking to Jennifer through the window. Despite the recent circumstances, Blaze couldn't help but allow a half-smile to slip through his features. Sure Flagg had every reason to try and win over Jennifer, but unfortunately a life like that for himself was beyond his reach.

 _Been there_ , _done that_. _Not trying again_.

When he got back to his garage, Crash Simpson was leaning against his door waiting for him with his arms folded and a scowl under his silver mustache.

"Sometimes I like a heads-up ahead of time that you're coming," Blaze said as he slid off his motorcycle in the driveway.

"I couldn't. You know I have my own show to run," Crash said.

Blaze got to his front door, flipping a set of keys in his hand as he did so. "If this is about trying to get me back into the show again, you'll be disappointed to hear that I'm still saying 'no'."

"Blaze, that was years ago. Time is supposed to mend wounds, not widen them."

Blaze opened the door and stepped into his home, "nice to see you too."

Crash persisted by coming in with him. "You're not gonna be able to get rid of me that easily."

"Evidently not," Blaze replied. He opened his fridge and pulled out two bottles of Bud Light. He held one out to Crash, which Crash hastily neglected.

"So why are you here?" Blaze asked, taking his first swig.

Instead of answering, Crash looked around the kitchen, which was connected to the living room also. He walked over to a small table next to the couch, which had a picture frame of Blaze and a girl together. Blaze was displaying a bigger smile in it then he ever did in the last couple years.

"I remember when this picture was taken," Crash said.

"So you just came here to take us down memory lane," Blaze replied. He put the bottle down. This was getting ridiculous. What was Crash up to?

Crash picked up the picture and turned around so he was facing Blaze. Blaze raised an eyebrow when he noticed a tear swimming in his eye.

"Can't a foster father just come and visit his foster son once in a while?" Crash asked.

"You never come here though, that's what surprises me," Blaze said.

"I know. I know. Johnny, I—." Crash was cut off by a fit of violent coughing, his last cough being so loud and grotesque, his eyes rolled back.

"Crash? Dad?"

 _Why do you call him 'dad'? He's not your dad_.

For a moment, Johnny was thirteen again, feeling his way through the dark hallway of Crash's home.

" _Dad_? _Dad_?"

When Crash came out of his room to see what he wanted, Blaze was shocked.

" _You're not my dad_!"

" _I am now_ ," Crash said with his knees bent to look Blaze in the eye. " _Accept it_."

" _Where's my dad? Where's my dad_? _Daddy_!"

Crash held him as he beat his fists against his chest in a sobbing fit.

Blaze was jerked back into the present as Crash fell limp to the floor.

"Crash? _Crash_." Blaze was immediately at his foster father's side. He shook Crash to get something out of him, but he was completely out. Through his open front door, several police officers stepped in. Blaze had been so lost in the moment that he didn't hear the wailing ambulance parking in front of his home.

"That man needs to come with us, son. He's losing his life," one of the officers said.**

 **Years Ago...**

*"Johnny? Johnny."

Blaze was startled back to reality. Everywhere he looked he saw green. Someone touched his shoulder and he looked up to see Roxanne Simpson staring down at him with concern.

 _What a lovely sight to wake up to_.

Roxanne's green eyes blinked and she used her hand to brush a tuft of pitch-black hair behind her ear. Her hair was chopped short directly above the ears. She wore skinny jeans and a black motorcycle jacket that her mother had given to her.

 _Her mother_ , _right_. _That's a crappy story_.

She chuckled, filling Blaze's ears with one of the most beautiful sounds he had ever heard.

"You fell asleep."

"Sorry. I'm just tired."

"You're always tired."

"I feel like I'm trying to catch up on lost sleep time," Blaze admitted.

Before Roxanne could respond, Blaze grasped her arm and pulled her down beside him. She laughed.

"D'you bring it?" Blaze asked. Roxanne reached into her breast pocket and pulled out a small glass bottle of whiskey. She unscrewed the cap and took the first swig. Blaze took the bottle and had a sip himself.

"How are you feeling?" Roxanne asked.

"I can be better," Blaze replied.

Roxanne nodded in understanding. "I think both of us can."

Both of them had ridden on Blaze's motorcycle outside of the city where the Quentin Carnival was currently based after attending Roxanne's mother's funeral. A bad motorcycle accident involving Blaze resulted in the death of Roxanne's mother, and what was worse about it was that Zarathos, the demon inside him, had claimed responsibility.

What did that mean for Roxanne?

Right before she passed, Roxanne's mother had made Blaze promise her that he would never again take part in any of Crash's shows. Why she didn't want him to eluded him, but he promised anyway and didn't say a word to Crash ever since. Yet here he was flirting with his daughter, and somehow he forced himself to believe that that was okay.

Roxanne grunted when she pulled out her flip phone and saw that her father was calling her.

"You gonna answer that?" Blaze asked.

Roxanne pursed her lips and handed the phone over to Blaze.

"Why don't _you_ make that call. He'll want to talk to both of us."

Blaze took the phone and stared at the caller ID. Roxanne was telling _him_ to decide whether or not to answer it?

Roxanne was obviously watching Blaze's thumb very closely, because as he was about to answer, she took the phone away and stuffed it in her pocket.

"No. I'm not ready to face him yet."

"You have to be eventually. Both of us," Blaze said.

Roxanne sighed and stared up at the sky. Clouds were morphing together and prophesying rain. "Can we do something else right now? I'll be willing to talk to dad in the morning."

Blaze gently took Roxanne's face in his hands and stared straight into her green eyes. They were the eyes that kept him from turning into that thing that was a part of him now.

"We'll do it together, but yeah, let's just live in the moment."

Both of them locked lips and even the voice of Zarathos couldn't break the moment and the memory that Blaze was making right here and now.**

 **Present Day**

Flagg was having the time of his life talking to Jennifer at Susie's Diner. There was no one else there except for the two of them and they had already gone through a whole bottle of red wine.

Jennifer was laughing so hard there were tears rolling down her cheeks. She was beginning to look like a mess, but Flagg was eating up every second of it, because there was no doubt that he looked like a mess himself.

"You wouldn't know it, but Blaze and me were like serious nerds in secret. We never wanted to 'come out of the closet' so to speak," Flagg said.

"So why couldn't you two share then?" Jennifer asked.

"That Captain America figure couldn't be shared, not without a fight breaking out."

"So to you it could only go one way or no way," Jennifer said.

"Yeah."

"So what happened?"

Flagg snickered. "I put it in the garbage disposal."

Jennifer's eyebrows shot up. "No…"

"Oh yeah, I guess you can say that _two_ things got messed up that day."

"So a fight _did_ end up breaking out anyway," Jennifer guessed.

"Actually no, he doesn't know that that's where it went. I dropped it in the yard of a neighbor who owns a big dog, then told Blaze that I found it there."

Jennifer laughed. "Did he get it back?"

"Yeah, but it was ruined beyond proud display. He threw it away and didn't get another one."

"You're so mean!"

"Well the funny thing is that he wasn't as devastated about it as I thought he might be. I don't know. He seemed completely disinterested the whole time."

"I still have a Peggy Carter figure in mint condition, still in its packaging," Jennifer said.

Now it was Flagg's turn to raise his eyebrows. " _Really_?"

"Yep. Keeping a toy in its packaging helps prevent crap like that from happening."

Inside his pocket, Flagg's phone buzzed. He pulled it out and saw that it was Blaze.

"Ah, well speak of the devil," Flagg said as he pressed the button to answer. "What up, Johnny?"

From Jennifer's view, she saw Flagg's smile suddenly fall after a few seconds and his eyes widen as far as they could go. Something was very wrong.**

" _He came to the house to say goodbye_."

Blaze did the best he could to follow the doctors who were pushing Crash through the halls of the hospital. His surroundings were all a blur and he could see sparks drifting around.

 _Not here_ , _please_ , _not here_.

" _You had your chance_."

 _He's not going to die_.

" _You're too weak when you care so much about these people_."

 _Screw you_.

" _Your insults don't sway me_."

 _This kind of crap is the reason why I allowed to be bonded to you in the first place_.

" _But you_ are _saving lives_."

 _Not the way I was promised_.

Blaze was out of it when the doctors got Crash in an emergency room and wasn't paying attention when they were scurrying around running scans and examining him. The sounds of the doctors talking and monitors beeping were faded. The voice of the demon on the other hand was crystal clear and filled his ears.

" _There's nothing you can do about this_."

 _Shut up_ , _yes there is_.

" _You're far too compassionate_. _I expect much more from you_."

Blaze suddenly stood up, his face contorting into rage. The doctors were too busy to notice him. Good.

"Johnny," someone called out. Blaze turned to see Flagg running up to him. There were tear stains on his cheeks.

"What's happening?" He asked.

"I don't know," Blaze replied. He didn't look at Flagg. His jaw was down and he couldn't think properly.

" _You had your chance_."

One of the doctors approached them. "I need you two to wait out in the waiting room."

"Please, can I please stay with him? He's my dad," Flagg said.

"I understand, but we need room and we need to focus. We'll update you as soon as we've learned something."

Blaze didn't know how he got from the emergency room all the way to the lobby. Maybe Flagg led him along. He was sitting in one of the chairs with his hands balled into fists on top of the arms.

"John? Hey man, you're scaring me a little," Flagg said.

Trampling over the sound of Flagg's voice was the sound of a gunshot in Blaze's head. His ears rang and all he could see was blood and death.

Flagg grabbed Blaze's hand and he was startled out of his memories. "John, it's okay. I'm right here."

Through the wall of sweat on his face, Blaze responded: "What was I doing?"

"You were screaming for your dad."

Blaze looked around and saw that several people had turned to stare at him with puzzled expressions. The receptionist at the desk looked particularly disturbed.

"He's alright. Our dad is in there," Flagg said.

The receptionist reluctantly went back to her paperwork.

"You need to keep it together in here, man. I don't need another family member in the hospital, okay?" Flagg asked with tears in his eyes.

Blaze nodded. Zarathos had finally shut up for now and for a few blissful minutes, he was finally feeling a sense of peace despite the circumstances. He reached into his breast pocket to feel the pocket Bible there. Touching it brought an even greater sense of peace.**

 **Years Ago...**

"How much of this have you read in the past few weeks?" Roxanne asked Blaze when they were inside his garage.

Blaze didn't have to look up from his motorcycle to know what she was talking about.

"Not much at all. I stopped after 'in the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth'."

Roxanne chuckled. "Why right after that? You were only just getting started."

Blaze finally looked up with an amused but weary smile. "Because I felt like that's all I needed to know."

Blaze felt the book Roxanne was holding touch his hand which was resting on the motorcycle's seat. There was the title inscribed on the front: Holy Bible.

"You can't keep blaming yourself for what happened to my mother. We were both on that motorcycle," Roxanne said.

Blaze didn't say anything, which was out of character for him whenever he was around Roxanne. He had lost a lot of his ability to talk after the death of Roxanne's mother. How many more deaths did he have to suffer through before he could finally find peace?

"I want you to have this," Roxanne finally said when she knew Blaze wouldn't respond.

Blaze raised an eyebrow. "Me?"

"Take it. One day you'll realize you need it."

Blaze and Roxanne both stood in his garage as two broken people, battered and torn apart by the tragedies of their past. They had both lost someone near and dear to them and rather than those events drawing them closer together, it seemed to be pulling them away from each other.

Blaze finally took hold of the Bible and tucked it in his breast pocket. He could feel the weight of it there, pressing down but not burdening him.

"God will give you peace if you ask for it," Roxanne said.

Blaze's hand strayed towards Roxanne's until both were interlocked in an embrace. "It's much more complicated than that."**

 **Present Day**

When Blaze woke up, he was still in the waiting room and Flagg was sitting next to him watching the TV across the room. It was tuned to the news, which was reporting sightings of 'extraordinary displays' by what they called meta humans. As Blaze rubbed his eyes, he felt streaks of pain course through his head.

"Hey, welcome to the land of the living," Flagg said.

"How long was I out?" Blaze asked.

"About twenty minutes."

"Damn, it felt longer than that," Blaze groaned.

"You were out cold. You almost looked dead, actually," Flagg admitted.

 _Why are we here again_?

Finally, a door opened and a male doctor stepped out. Once he spotted Blaze and Flagg, he headed straight towards them. Flagg leaped to his feet but Blaze's body refused to work.

"What's wrong with him?" Flagg asked.

The doctor sighed and eyed Blaze, then turned back to Flagg. "There's no easier way to say this, but—your father has terminal cancer."

Flagg's expression changed. He tried to speak but no words came. Blaze could feel his heart fall down his chest and through his stomach.

"How—how did you learn this so fast?" Flagg asked.

"He has actually been our patient for some time now. We already the results ready for him to see, but when he arrived, he fled when were about to sit him down. That's when he went to _his_ house," the doctor explained, nodding at Blaze.

Flagg looked down at Blaze for confirmation. Blaze nodded without looking up at him.

Flagg brushed his hand over his mouth in thought. "So what now?"

The doctor's shoulders drooped. "There's nothing we can do about his cancer. One of you can take him to stay with you—and take care of him."

Zarathos' voice started out as a whisper and slowly grew louder and louder.

"I'll take him," Flagg said.

Blaze stood up and started heading towards the exit.

"Johnny?" Flagg called out.

Blaze ignored him, determined to get away from there, away from everything.

" _Johnny_?" Flagg persisted.

Blaze walked out the sliding doors. As he did so, part of his face split open like a wide gash, revealing scorching bone.**

*"Why can't I use your power to heal Crash?" Blaze screamed. He was in his garage holding a hammer with his hands on fire and appearing like hands of a skeleton.

Zarathos didn't answer. Blaze imagined himself tearing a hole in his chest and wrenching the demon out to strangle him to death before he could die first.

"I was promised the power to keep people from dying. Why hasn't he kept his end of the deal?" Blaze demanded. He swung his hammer down and let it slam against his workbench. Chipped wood and dust flew in the air.

"Tell me! _Tell me_!" Blaze threw the hammer across the room and watched it smash against the garage door and fall to the floor. He saw an impression of a dent in the door but he didn't care.

After a few more seconds of silence, the demon finally spoke.

" _You weren't promised the ability to protect people. You were promised the ability to deal out justice to the guilty_."

"When my dad was in danger of dying, he said that I could save people. If my ability is to punish those who sin, why can't I save people too?"

" _I am not capable of saving people_. _I am merely a vessel of one of his deals_ ," Zarathos replied.

"You're a spirit with great power, and not _one_ of your abilities is to give a person new life?" Blaze asked.

" _I know only how to take lives_ , _not save them_. _You should be grateful of your abilities Johnny Blaze_. _With them_ , _you are a hero_."

Blaze shook his head and leaned against his workbench. He sank to the floor and lay his arms over his knees.

"Delivering justice to the guilty and saving people are two different things. I'm not a hero. I'm a slave. A slave to your will," he said. He held up his hand, watching fire dance across his bony palm.

"This isn't what I wanted. He knew that, but he gave it to me anyway."

" _You are a gullible fool_. _You haven't even scratched the surface of your power even after all these years of possessing it_."

"I know how I can learn more, but I can't do it. Not after what it did to me," Blaze said.

" _The book helped you obtain the powers_. _Now it can only be a benefit to you_ ," Zarathos replied.

"What's in that book is nothing but evil, like you. I'm not a hero, and you're the exact opposite of one."

" _I am a hero_ , _you're just too ignorant to realize it_. _You humans are all the same_. _Seeing everything as either only one way or the other_."

"I know evil when I see it, and feel it. It's all that's in you."

" _Who are you talking to_? _You or me_? _I'm_ inside _you_ , _remember_?"

The words broke Blaze into a fit of tears.**

 **Years Ago...**

The cheers of the crowd echoed behind Blaze as he walked out of the arena and into his changing room where Roxanne was waiting for him with a big grin on her face.

"You were awesome, honey," she said, throwing her arms around his neck.

"It was just another day in the carnival, babe. I'm ready to get out of here."

"Your place?" Roxanne asked.

"Sure thing, but first—." Blaze led Roxanne by the bench next to his locker and sat her down. He then slowly got down on one knee and removed a little box from his breast pocket. Roxanne's eyes widened as she figured out what was coming.

"Roxanne Simpson, will you—."

Suddenly, the flaps flew open behind Blaze and in stepped Crash.

"Johnny, Ralph is asking—," he stopped short at the sight of Blaze at Roxanne's feet with the little box. His expression contorted into rage.

"I told you you can't do that! You can't marry my daughter!" He yelled.

Blaze stood up. "You never explained why! Don't you want her to be happy?"

"Yes but she can't be happy with you. Her life would be in danger if she marries you!"

"You have to let me try. Give me at least a year and—."

"Jonathan Blaze, you are forbidden to marry Roxanne as long as you breathe, you get that!?" Crash screamed.

"Dad, I trust him. I'm old enough now to marry who I want," Roxanne demanded.

"You haven't seen what _I've_ seen. You have no idea—."

Crash was cut off at the sound of screaming. Not the excited, joyous kind. Something was terribly wrong.

All three of them ran outside of the tent and saw what appeared to be army trucks lined up with armored men piling out armed with guns. Some of the guns even had a blue, sickish glow.

And the men were using them against the innocent people running for their lives.

"Get Roxanne away from here!" Blaze urged Crash.

"Johnny, what are you doing?" Roxanne asked.

Blaze looked at Roxanne. The feeling in Roxanne's eyes was completely clear. She was scared.

"I love you," he said. Then he turned to Crash.

"Go!" He yelled.

Crash grabbed Roxanne's arm, much to her dismay, and pulled her along to get her to safety. Blaze faced the trucks again, and watched a man bigger than most of the others step out the back of one of the trucks. He had on a black mask with a sad yellow face crudely drawn on it and in his hands he held a crossbow.

"I'm here for Quentin!" He hollered.

None of the civilians stopped running. The big man shot one of the people running.

"We won't stop until Quentin shows himself!"

Blaze watched as Ralph Quentin himself pushed through the mass of people trying to get away. More gunshots were going off and the cries of dying people pierced Blaze's ears.

" _Guilty ones_ , _all around us_."

"Not yet," Blaze replied aloud.

"I'm right here!" Quentin called out. "What do you want with me?"

The big man turned to face the carnival owner and used his hand to signal two of his men to grab him. Quentin was taken and dragged before the man on his knees.

The man took off his mask, revealing a bald head with a scar that ran up his neck and over his chin, then stopped at his bottom lip.

"Do you remember me?" He asked.

"Vince?"

"Bingo. At least you remember me. Except when I was part of your carnival, I was known as the Freakmaster. Well now _I'm_ going to make you a freak for what you did," Vince declared.

"Vince, please, I didn't know—." Ralph was interrupted when Vince struck him across the face with the back of his hand.

"Get him in the car. He's coming with me," Vince ordered his companions.

"What about the others?" One of them asked.

Vince turned to look at Blaze and the other people who stood by watching everything unfold. He waved a dismissive hand. "Kill them all."

Immediately again the air exploded with sounds of gunfire and screaming. A body fell at Blaze's feet, soaking his boots in blood. When he looked down, he gasped at what he saw.

 _Roxanne_.

Seconds turned into minutes as Blaze scooped up Roxanne's body and carried her away from the carnage happening all around him. Bullets struck him in the back but he stayed on his feet while the demon within preserved his life. He ran by Crash, who followed close behind.

"She ran after you, I couldn't stop her," he cried.

Blaze didn't reply. He continued carrying Roxanne until he got her to an empty room in the carnival. He put Roxanne down. A bloodstain on her shirt was continuously growing without stopping.

"Roxanne. No, no, don't do this to me," Blaze choked.

Crash knelt beside him with a hand over his mouth. "Baby?"

Blaze touched Roxanne's cheek, which had turned bitterly cold. Though she was pale to begin with, Roxanne's skin was turning as white as clean sheets. Her eyes fluttered open and peered up at Blaze.

Despite the circumstances, a smile found Roxanne's expression, and she clasped Johnny's hand with her own bloody one.

"Who's _this_ handsome stud?" She asked.

The words only made the pain in Blaze's stomach grow stronger like a chainsaw shredding skin. Those were her first words to him when she agreed to be his girlfriend.

Blaze laughed through the tears. "Nothing ever kills you, huh?"

"It's just that I know where I'm going."

"No, no. You're not going anywhere. You're going to live," Blaze said. He wanted to punch himself for saying those words. They meant nothing. He knew he couldn't do anything. He was completely helpless, just like when his father died.

Roxanne shifted her gaze towards Crash, her own dad. "Dad, I'm sorry."

Crash's eyes squeezed shut as they bled more tears. "Why did you do it? You didn't have to do it."

"Because it's not Johnny's time yet," Roxanne said. She looked like she wanted to say more, but her breath hinged and she struggled to make a sound. Finally, she let loose one more breath and her eyes stopped blinking.

"Son of a bitch," a voice said behind Blaze. Blaze turned around to see Flagg standing at the doorway with his jaw dropped.

Roxanne was dead, and the three people that were still alive that cared for her the most had to witness her go. Blaze knew he couldn't stay and comfort Flagg. Justice had to be dealt and Quentin had to be saved from Vince, however it needed to be done.**

*There was an abandoned facility that once belonged to Stark Industries back when Howard Stark headed the company as the billionaire and ladies' man. In one of the vast hallways that led to the building's central room where most of the experiments had been conducted, a group of goons hired by Vince stood watch. To hide their presence in the building from people outside, only the emergency lights were on, emanating a faint scarlet glow that reflected off the armor of Vince's men. At the other end of the hallway was another door that had been sealed shut with one of Stark's high-end security systems. There wasn't a single sound in the hallway, but in the room the men were guarding came the sound of Quentin screaming as Vince the Freakmaster tortured him and spilled out a string of insults to add to injury.

The confidence the guards had outside of the room was high. There was no way anyone was getting through, and even if there was the slight chance of the police coming to investigate, the goons were well-trained by Vince himself to handle it.

 _EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE_.

The guards jumped at the sudden sound and tensed. They crouched and aimed their weapons at the door on the other end. Sweat coursed down most of their faces and their trigger fingers were trembling. What belonged to such an inhuman, animalistic scream?

Then came the stomping, loud and clear, as if someone was stomping in the hallway they were in and not on the other side of the sealed door. The stomping finally stopped and the guards heard another cry, shorter and quieter this time but equally terrifying. Something slammed against the door so hard it dented. The front poked out in a mess of twisted metal.

Something hit the door again and one of the hinges popped off.

"Steady…" one of the guards said. It didn't reassure the others at all. Terror filled the room like a wild virus devouring every brain in its way.

After a longer pause, the door was hit one more time and fell straight down onto the ground.

"Open fire!" The same guard screamed.

Simultaneously, the guards fired strings of bullets at the doorway, though they couldn't see what had brought the door down. Their bullets appeared to be striking something in the blackness, but nothing moved in response to them. The guard raised his hand for the others to cease fire. They stopped, and waited.

They didn't have to wait long. A small fire sparked, lighting up the dark and exposing the intruder's face. Except it wasn't really a face to begin with. It was a skull with its jaw dropped so far down that it looked like it was in danger of popping. The fire that the guards had seen was dancing on top of the skull's head. In the intruder's bony hand he held a chain that was on fire.

"What the hell?" The guard hollered.

All the guards then started firing wildly, not even caring to try and hit the target just right. Any bullets that did make their mark on the intruder had no effect on it. The intruder began walking towards them and its chain formed into something that resembled a staff, which it was able to use to deflect bullets back at them. Bullets ricocheted off the chain-staff and shredded some of the guards' throats, leaving them in puddles of blood. Next, the chain formed into a resemblance of a chainsaw, with the metal links actually functioning as a saw. The intruder swung its weapon, severing a guard's head from his neck. It then proceeded to plunge the saw into the chest of another. His chest spit blood and organ matter, splattering across the intruder's skull. The guard that had been commanding the group ran up to the door where Vince and Quentin were and banged on it.

"Help us!" He screamed.

No one came to answer, no matter how loud the guard screamed or how hard he banged. The guards were trapped in this hallway with a demon from hell.

Ghost Rider whipped his chain forward and it stabbed through the chest of a guard and came out his back, then stabbed through another guard so that he could lift them up and repeatedly smash them between the walls. The other guards were caught in the path of the bodies being tossed around and they fell over, their faces bashed in.

The bodies linked with the chain dissolved into ashes, allowing Ghost Rider to continue down the hallway. The last guard was still banging on the door, crying out for help, though it would never come. The Rider grabbed the goon by the throat and lifted him up off his feet. Once his head was level with the Rider's, Ghost Rider bashed his head against the goon's, smashing it in a single hit. Now it was time to deal with Vince.

Taking down the door to the lab was easier than the previous door, and sure enough, there was Vince standing by the unconscious body of Quentin, who was spread out on a table to have an experiment conducted on him.

Vince was terrified at the sight of Ghost Rider. His hands shook as he reached for his crossbow.

"What are you?" He demanded.

Ghost Rider didn't answer. He cracked his knuckles and moved in to take on Vince. Vince fired an arrow, which flew and lodged itself in the Rider's chest. The Rider took the arrow out of him, bit the tip off, and spat it at Vince. It found its mark in Vince's neck, spewing blood down his shirt.

" _You're guilty_ ," Ghost Rider said.

"S-so is he! Why are you saving him? He murdered my parents in cold blood! They were his slaves until he wanted nothing to do with them anymore."

The Rider stopped for a moment and stared at Quentin.

 _What is he talking about_ , _Zarathos_?

It was the first conscious thought from Blaze since he arrived at the facility.

" _He is innocent_. _Vince is lying_."

The Rider looked back at Vince.

" _You're guilty_ ," he said again.

As Ghost Rider continued walking towards him, Vince whipped out his pistol and frantically fired shot after shot at him, but to no avail. The Rider kicked him down so that he was off his feet and on his back. Then the Rider raised his foot and stomped down on the arrow's tip in Vince's neck. Vince screamed in pain and blood pooled underneath his head. But the Rider wasn't done. He stomped on it again, and continued stomping until Vince couldn't scream anymore. His lifeless corpse lay broken underneath Ghost Rider's foot. When Ghost Rider set Vince's body ablaze, Zarathos, not Johnny Blaze, threw the engagement ring into the fire too.


	3. Chapter 3

*Within the many realms seldom found by just anybody in the universe, no person could say that he has seen a demon on his knees praying for forgiveness. Such a sight was rare indeed.

But that was what the demon Deathwatch was doing in an empty room with his head planted on the floor. Two bowls generating smoke sat on both sides of him.

On earth, Deathwatch went by the name of Stephen Lords as a dark figure wearing a black robe with a set of silver armor underneath. His eyes glowed scarlet, and his hair, which fell down over his shoulders was a dark crimson too.

He uttered words that no human man could even begin to understand, but the one he was speaking to would know exactly what he was saying.

"To you I ask—no, I _beg_ —for your forgiveness, my lord. Grant me mercy and take me back, so that I may prove that I am your loyal servant."

The one he spoke to didn't answer. The air remained still and Stephen could feel the black hole in his heart that his former master wasn't filling. His anger reached a peak, and he picked up one of the bowls and threw it across the room in a rage with a howl. The bowl shattered upon impact against the wall, spilling water everywhere.

Someone knocked on the double doors behind him.

"What is it?" Stephen hissed. The doors flew open, revealing two Asian ninjas leading another ninja by the shoulders.

"This one agreed to offer his life," one of the ninjas said. The ninja they brought to Stephen was forced to his knees. Upon closer examination, Stephen realized that the willing sacrifice was both blind and deaf.

From his sheath, Stephen removed his sword, which was a long black blade with crimson runes etched into it.

"A sacrifice of blood and bone," he said. He opened the man's neck with his sword. His body fell into a pool of blood that kept growing larger and larger as more blood poured from his neck. Stephen grabbed the corpse by the neck and used his strength to tear the head off and hold it up.

"My lord, I bring to you a blood offering. Please accept it, and that I may be granted a second chance."

There was a moment of silence, penetrated only by the heavy breathing coming from the two ninjas standing nearby. They were members of the Hand, an underground organization with the goal of 'cleansing' the world in the name of a demon known only as the Beast. Though Stephen wasn't what they had been expecting, the Hand believed that he was the Beast they had been worshipping for so long, and that he was finally here to lead them to victory against their enemies.

When no response came, Stephen threw the head. No forgiveness was being to granted to Stephen today.

"Go out," he ordered the men behind him, "find another family and bring them to me. My master can't ignore me for too much longer."

The two members of the Hand bowed and left the room immediately to do as ordered, leaving Stephen in a room that stank of blood and brains.**

*A man hit the floor, his head landing hard on his arm. A woman, holding her child close to her, tried to inch away from the intruders in the house but two men clothed in black were already behind them to prevent them from leaving.

"Please! Please don't hurt him!" The woman begged.

Another man in black grabbed the woman's husband and hoisted him up on his feet. "You're all coming with us. You're to be the master's sacrifice."

"No! No! Not my daughter," the woman yelled, holding on to her girl even tighter.

"Shut her up!" The man in black ordered. One of the Hand members behind the woman kicked her in the back, forcing her onto her knees.

The lead ninja removed a katana from his belt. "We'll take the child and leave the others. The younger the sacrifice, the more satisfying."

From outside, a long chain flew in and wrapped itself around the leader's wrist. The only thing the man was able to do was widen his eyes before the chain pulled him towards its owner. At the front door, Ghost Rider closed its bony fingers around the ninja's throat and the other hand shanked him with a knife.

The other members of the Hand standing around the family fidgeted in horror at the new presence. Most of them unsheathed their katanas.

"It's—it's the devil," one of them said.

All three members of the captive family were lying on the floor mysteriously passed out, leaving the ninjas to face Ghost Rider.

"That's an insult," Ghost Rider said. He began crossing the hallway to get to the ninjas in the kitchen.

"I'm not the devil. I am more powerful than the devil. I am scarier than the devil. The devil cannot kill a human man. But _I_ can."

From Ghost Rider's hand, his long black chain materialized and burst into flames. He stood in the middle of the circle of Hand members surrounding him.

"It's terrifying isn't it? To be faced with something you have no knowledge of. You pretend as though you have all the answers, but I can stop you right there and say this: you know nothing of the universe we all coexist in."

The ninjas didn't respond. They continued holding their ground, but the Rider could see the fear in them. It vibrated and shook the ground beneath the Rider's feet but it didn't distract him.

"And the power you seek does not accept you," the Rider said. The chain in his hand then went flying in a fiery circle around the Rider, and the ninjas instantly turned into ash upon contact.

 _Okay, they're gone_. _Let me go_.

The face of the Rider began reforming until it had transitioned back into the face of Johnny Blaze.

" _You should've left one alive so that we could learn about their master_ ," Zarathos said.

Blaze stepped over a row of ash in his way to get back to the front door. "They won't speak. None of them will. Their loyalty is too great. The more of these men we disintegrate, the more likely their master will come out to meet us himself."

" _And then we destroy him_."

"And then we destroy him," Blaze repeated.

As Blaze left the house, he didn't notice that the husband was conscious again and watching him go.**

*In less than an hour, police cars were parked outside the house that belonged to the family the Hand had attacked. The squad was led by Police Detective Frank McGee, who stood inside the kitchen looking at the ashes spread out across the floor through smoke that drifted from his cigar.

He turned to one of the officers standing nearby with a flashlight. "Search the rest of the house. I want to know if we can find any more leads."

The officer nodded and left to do his work, leaving Frank with the man that lived in the house.

"Were you unconscious the entire time the fight happened?" He asked.

The man shuddered and shook his head. His gaze remained down on his floor and he hugged himself with his arms, trying to put his mind back together.

"What did you see when you woke up?" Frank asked.

"I—saw a monster."

"A monster," Frank skeptically replied.

"Look, I know it sounds crazy, but I saw someone with a face like a skull. And it was—it was on fire," the man stammered.

Frank was silent and pulled out his notepad to jot down a few notes.

"You don't believe me," the man said.

"I didn't say that, sir."

"Then why aren't you saying anything?"

"I'm thinking, sir. What about this ash? Did you see what caused this ash?"

"No, sir."

"What about your attackers? Did you see them get away?"

"No. I don't know what happened to them. I don't know how all this ash got everywhere."

Frank knelt to take a closer look. With a gloved hand, he traced two fingers through the black ash and rubbed some between the fingers. It was as if it had been grounded into powder. No dark pebbles or hard chunks to be found.

Frank had his own ways of analyzing crime scenes during investigations. Usually his methods were enough to solve almost all of them, but this was one that he couldn't put his finger on. A man with a skull face that appeared to be in flames. Could that mean—?

"What's going on?"

"Hm?" Frank looked up at the man.

"Are we being invaded?" The man asked.

"No." _Then again_. "I don't think so."

"What else could that have been that I saw?"

Frank stood back up and shook his head. "Son, we're part of a world that created its own super soldiers to win World War II and now we've got a man or an android in a shiny red and yellow suit flying around. I wouldn't call our world a 'normal' one."

The man stepped forward with both hands on his head as if he was turning himself in to Frank. "We've never had incidents like this here in Santa Fe. Whatever crazy crap the world is churning out has no place here."

"That's a very fair thing to say, but I'm afraid you have no control over that," Frank said.

"But _you_ do," the man pointed out.

Frank grunted and turned away. In his mind he flipped through the different mental photographs of the scene he had taken. These weren't just photographic memories he had however. When the man wasn't looking, Frank had taken snapshots of the scene with his own eyes, and they remained there in his head until he had no more use of them. He also had the ability to zoom in and out of certain areas in the 'photos' whenever he wished, giving him advantages that no other detective he knew had.

That was one way he succeeded in every investigation.

But though he had ideas, he couldn't quite place the story around this one.**

*Inside Blaze's garage, Flagg sat on the tool desk with the newspaper reading the front page while Blaze worked on his own motorcycle Hell Cycle.

Blaze's paranoia was rising higher and higher as Flagg read out loud:

"'…Based on the description that was provided by Mr. Harrison, the mysterious entity that saved the family was labeled the 'Ghost Rider' by authorities, and a dedicated search has been made to find him. If you have any information please call yada yada yada," Flagg plopped the paper down next to him.

"The world is getting freakier all the time."

"Take it with a grain of salt, stories of that kind of stuff crops up all the time," Blaze said, knowing that he was speaking bullcrap. He couldn't let Flagg know that he was Ghost Rider. Not yet.

"Uh, does anyone remember Captain America? What about the iron dude that was reported last week?"

"I don't watch the news," Blaze said.

"Maybe if you did that more often, you'd become a bit of a superhero yourself after you watch all that crap."

Blaze laughed at the irony of his friend's remark. It was both funny and sad how completely oblivious Flagg was to what he was capable of.

"Besides, whatever that was, appeared to have _saved_ that family. He—or it—didn't kill them, or hurt them for that matter," Blaze pointed out.

"Sounds like you don't watch movies either, which I know you do. People like that have complicated motivations."

"I'm more concerned about your dad right now," Blaze lied. It was true that he was concerned about Crash, but not as much as the secrecy of his identity. He was reckless, and now that recklessness was costing him. He was going to have to be more careful, especially when there was someone out there that threatened to kill him.

"How's he holding up?" Blaze asked.

"He's okay. He was wondering where _you_ were," Flagg replied.

Blaze frowned. "I can't be by his bedside every minute of the day."

"But where do you go?" Flagg asked.

"The—the church. To pray for him."

Flagg looked down at the ground. "You know, I'm not a religious man, but prayer actually sounds pretty good right now."

"Did Roxanne ever talk to you about prayer?" Blaze asked.

Flagg looked at Blaze with one eyebrow raised. He was surprised that Blaze was bringing her up.

"Not really. I know she was very religious, but that kind of made her the oddball, both her and our mom. Me and my dad were on the opposite side of the spectrum."

Blaze sat up on the floor, covered in dust and soot. He dug out the pocket Bible from his breast pocket and handed it to Flagg.

"This was hers," he explained.

Flagg flipped through it, taking note of all the highlighted sections. "With everything she highlighted, it's hard to know where to read first."

Blaze got up and walked to Flagg's side. He pointed at one of the highlighted segments, which was in blue.

"She highlighted something in blue whenever she found something that she could relate to. 1 Corinthians 6:18 for instance."

Flagg read it loud: "'Flee fornification. Every sin that a man doeth is without the body; but he that committeth fornification sinneth against his own body'."

Flagg grimaced. "Would it have killed these people to speak proper English?"

Blaze chuckled. "That was before we got the simpler '-ed' in our language."

"And what the hell does fornification even mean?"

"Sex."

"Maybe I shouldn't have asked."

Blaze laughed louder this time. "I'm serious though, this whole verse is basically warning against sexual intercourse before marriage."

Flagg's eyes widened upon realizing something. "So wait a minute, let me get this straight. You and her never actually—you know—?"

"Nope. Roxanne wouldn't have it. It was either marriage or nothing."

"And you were able to live through that?" Flagg asked.

Blaze sighed. "I loved her for more than that. I was willing to be patient for her. I didn't believe the same things that she did, but I wanted to respect her wishes anyway."

"Well what about now? Do you believe what she believed _now_?"

Blaze was silent for a moment. _To be honest_ , _I'm beginning to wonder more and more if she was right all along_.

He half-expected Zarathos to say something in response to that. Some idiotic, deceptive remark, but he heard nothing.

"I don't know yet."

Flagg took a few seconds to take that in and shrugged. "Alright. Well, on a happier note, I got something that I want to show you."

He got off the table and walked out through the garage door without a word, leaving Blaze to wonder what was going on. For a little bit he heard nothing, and he was about to call out for Flagg until he heard the start of a motorcycle engine. The sound was like the most beautiful music to his ears, and it was coming closer and closer.

Finally, Blaze saw Flagg turn the corner to come through the door, this time riding a motorcycle. He was wearing a helmet and a wide grin.

"So what do you think?" Flagg asked.

Then the motorcycle tipped over onto its side, dumping poor Flagg with it.

Blaze rushed to help his friend. "Might want to work on your presentations."

He took Flagg's hand and helped him up on his feet. Flagg's helmet was slightly crooked on his head now, which he needed to readjust to see Blaze more clearly.

"It's not the best work of art, but I needed some kind of an upgrade," Flagg admitted.

Blaze placed his hands on his waist. "Do you have a name for it?"

"Well I was hoping to give it a name that's similar to yours."

"Like?"

"Flame Cycle."

"No."

"What?"

"Just. No."

"Why not?"

"It's too cheesy. Come on, think."

"Fire Cycle?"

Blaze sighed and face-palmed.

"Come on man, help me out, don't just shoot every suggestion down," Flagg said.

"We'll work on it."**

*When Blaze came into Ralph Quentin's office, the large HDTV behind Quentin's desk was on, tuned to a live segment featuring Tony Stark himself, the playboy billionaire. He was holding index cards and standing in front of an audience that was eagerly waiting for some kind of explanation from him, which Blaze wasn't familiar with.

"—Outlandish, and—fantastic. I'm just not the—the hero type, clearly, with this—laundry list of character defects and—all the mistakes I've made…"

Stark stopped short when his partner next to him whispered something in his ear. Stark nodded in understanding. He held up his cards again, taking a deep breath. His expression changed to one of slight fear. His teeth were out for all to see and gritted together.

"The truth is—."

Stark stopped again, his eyes darted back and forth across the audience and he seemed to show that he knew that whatever he was about to say, he couldn't unsay.

"I am Iron Man."

Before the audience even had a chance to react to this news, Quentin shut off the TV in a huff and swerved his chair around to face Blaze.

"Can you believe that guy? Does he honestly think that people are actually going to fall for that?" He asked.

 _Maybe if you had kept the TV on just a few seconds longer, you would've found out_.

"These freaks and their crazy toys are popping up more and more. Eventually the government is going to _have_ to do something to keep them all under control, before _they_ control _us_ ," Quentin said.

Blaze tried to keep his annoyance of Quentin held back, but it was difficult. Quentin wasn't an easy boss to have, and he still questioned his ability to trust him after what happened with Vince, the Freakmaster.

"I uh, came here for a favor," Blaze said.

Quentin frowned. "You usually don't do that."

"Then maybe I'm in luck, I want some time off."

Quentin tilted his head with a cigar in his mouth. "Time off? Why? Is it because of Simpson?"

"Not really, though I would like to spend a little more time with him while he's in the hospital."

Quentin's features softened and he nodded. "I do hope Simpson turns out okay. He's one of my best stuntmen, and he's a good man."

The good side of Quentin that always kept Blaze around was coming out.

"You're not gonna lose another, I'll be back," Blaze promised. He hoped that he could actually keep that promise.

Quentin nodded again. "Will do, Johnny. When do you think you'll be back?"

"Hopefully within a week. Enough time to get done what I have to get done."

"One week it is. Don't be late," Quentin said, winking.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Blaze remarked as he left. When he opened the flaps to leave Quentin's office, Flagg was standing right there waiting for him with a grin much like the one he had when he was showing off his new motorcycle.

"I have awesome news," he said.

"Nice to see you too," Blaze commented.

Flagg ignored him and continued. "I talked to Jennifer earlier. She's gonna give me a chance."

"Meaning?"

"We're dating now. Like, _actually_ dating."

Blaze felt his spirits lift a little. He was happy for his friend, though he wished the circumstances surrounding him were better.

"Hey, that's great man. I think you'll do fine."

"I don't need your confidence, dad," Flagg joked.

"You've got it anyway. Good job, kid."

While the two of them were walking out together, Flagg talked almost the entire time, but Blaze barely payed attention. Now that he had Quentin's "blessing" to take a break, he had to use the week he was given to find whoever was leading the ninjas he confronted last night, and Blaze had a feeling, that their master didn't want to be found.

Not yet.


	4. Chapter 4

Many things took up the emotions of Stephen Lords, such as anger, hatred, and greed. But another one he had that he would never admit, was guilt.

That was why he was determined to slaughter as many people as he had to to appease the one he had betrayed. Mephisto, his old master, had banished him from hell itself, and left him on earth with only half of his power. Stephen had hoped that by sacrificing enough humans in Mephisto's name, he would be forgiven and accepted back into his master's ranks, but so far, he wasn't nearing any success.

After each bloody sacrifice, Stephen grew more impatient and angry when Mephisto made no hint of a response. No hint of gratitude or pity. It made Stephen feel all the more alone.

 _So if he won't answer, then I will fight back_.

On the other side of the doors to Stephen's room, two associates that he had hired stood waiting. There was a short, sickly pale woman known only to everyone who knew her as Hag, and there was a large, burly man fittingly nicknamed Troll. Hag wore a dark purple, one-piece jumpsuit with a long V-neck, designed to allow her the freedom of being as mobile as she can possibly be during a fight.

Troll had a long beard and wore a heavy fur coat which still had a little blood on it from the fox he had skinned to make the coat.

"Why are we here?" He asked.

"If we didn't come, he would've hunted us down," Hag replied.

"We can take him," Troll said.

"Don't say that so loudly." Hag reached up and knocked on the door. It seemed a silly move to try and get into the room of a demon, but she didn't want to fling the door open uninvited either.

"Enter," a voice from the other side said.

Reluctantly, the two siblings pushed the double doors open and stepped into Stephen's room. The stench of blood immediately penetrated Hag's nostrils and she cringed. There were bloodstains all over the floor, some looking still fresh. Stephen Lords was sitting in the middle of the room, his eyes already staring his guests down.

"We came as soon as you called for us," Hag said.

Stephen didn't respond, but instead motioned for them to sit down. Hag looked down at the bloody floor and frowned. There were no chairs in the room, so Hag and Troll had to sit on the floor. Hag tried the best she could to stay away from any of the blood.

Hag cleared her throat and decided to talk when Stephen didn't.

"We heard that—."

Stephen cut her off. "You interrupted me while I was feeding."

Hag raised an eyebrow. "I'm afraid I don't understand."

"No. You don't," Stephen replied with a sigh. "The pain of others works as a power surge for me."

Hag cleared her throat. "Congratulations."

Stephen frowned but continued as though Hag didn't say anything. "I called you two here to retrieve something for me. A medallion of great power. It is being used as a gas cap for a motorcycle. This motorcycle belongs to a man called Jonathan Blaze."

"If he is nothing more than a man, why don't _you_ get it from him?" Hag asked.

"Because the use of this medallion will be my last resort. I am currently working on other plans at the same time, so I will need extra hands to help me. I have heard of your special abilities, and know that you have at least a slight chance against him."

"Why will I need my powers to fight him?" Hag asked.

"Because contained within Blaze is a power that even _you_ are not familiar with. Contained within him is a spirit that gives Blaze the ability to turn into a nightmare that cannot be easily destroyed. But you have something special too. That is why I am not just sending a bunch of ninjas to do the job, although I will give you some to aid you."

Hag placed her hands on her knees. She took a moment to feel the electric energy inside her surge across her arms. Her power was simple but destructive. She could drain the life force from a person by just simply looking into his eyes.

Suddenly she gasped when she felt the energy halt as though it had snagged onto something. Then like a tightrope, it was pulled up, threatening to tear right through her skin and out her arm. Something was pulling at it and it hurt like dozens of needles digging into her flesh.

She cried in pain when the pulling didn't let up. Troll looked at her with concern.

"What are you doing?" Troll asked Stephen.

Stephen's eyes were shut and a wide grin spread across his face. "Aaaah, yes. Your power is strictly an energy source contained within the body. A biological conversion as revenge from someone you hurt. _My_ power doesn't just exist within my body. It surrounds my soul and my entire being. Your pain feeds my power, and with every passing day, my power changes and grows stronger."

Another tug more violent then the first one forced Hag to claw her fingernails into the floor. Blood was beginning to seep from pores in her arm, coloring the white skin with dots of scarlet.

Razors of pain shredded Hag's thoughts and she felt limp even though she was still sitting.

Finally, mercifully, Stephen released his grip and Hag's head fell to the floor. Her breathing was heavy and sweat streamed down her face. When she looked at her arm, the blood was still there but drying quickly.

"Should you think about running away from me again, you will feel pain even worse then you did just now," Stephen warned.

That was all he had to say before he turned his back on his shaken associates and resumed his meditation.

"You were thinking about running away?" Troll asked his sister when they walked out of the building where Stephen housed himself.

Hag didn't answer. It wasn't that she didn't want to, it was that she couldn't summon the energy to do so. She was massaging her arm and blinking the tears out of her eyes.

Finally she recovered enough energy to say as much as she needed to. "Let's go find Blaze."**

*Blaze never had to unscrew the gas cap off of his motorcycle after his life was flipped upside down thanks to Zarathos. The motorcycle didn't run on gasoline anymore, but the power of the spirits trapped within the cap, which was no ordinary cap. It was a medallion that served as the spirits' prison and the source of the motorcycle's fuel at the same time.

Though it was convenient, Blaze missed the smell of gasoline as it was being poured into a motorcycle. It was an odd way of giving him an adrenaline rush.

He parked Hell Cycle in front of a gas station and walked into the building to get a drink. Or two. It varied depending on his mood.

A 30-pack of Keystone Light hit the front counter, alarming the male checker who was reading a magazine with Tony Stark on the cover.

"You know the drill," Blaze said.

The checker eyed Blaze the entire time he processed the order, as if afraid that he was going to draw a gun on him at any moment. Once Blaze handed him the amount in cash, he whisked the pack away and headed back out.

There where his motorcycle was supposed to be sitting alone and undisturbed, was a slender, pale woman sitting on it.

The pack of beer slipped from Blaze's hands when they burst into flames. The rest of his body was swallowed up by fire and a gleaming skull took the place of his face.

" _You_ ," Ghost Rider said, pointing at the pale thief.

The woman Hag turned around and her eyes widened at the sight of the Rider. In an instant, she was already afraid.

"Troll!" She shouted.

Suddenly it was as though time sped up by several seconds, and Ghost Rider was already standing up on top of Hell Cycle staring down at Hag. He reached down, grabbed Hag by the neck, and lifted her up. Before the Rider could do anything however, large arms wrapped themselves around his neck, forcing his grip off of Hag. He felt himself get lifted off his feet and tossed aside like a rag doll. His head smashed into one of the fuel dispensers. He wasted no time getting back up, and this time his chain was out. The one who had thrown him was a large, bearded man with massive arms that clearly displayed the veins. A stark opposite of Hag. From his back he removed an M16 and opened fire.

Ghost Rider zigzagged from one spot to the next to avoid the gunfire but also get closer to Troll. Troll's eyes slightly widened once the Rider was right in his face. Rider struck him across the face. Troll stumbled back, but thanks to his build, it barely affected him. Hag leaped over Troll and aimed a kick at Rider's head. Rider managed to grab Hag's kicking leg and slam her entire body to the ground.

Before Rider could snap her leg to dislocate it, Troll fired several shots at Rider, this time with a Beretta M9 pistol. One shot struck him squarely on the left side of his head.

Curiously, Blaze felt mild pain in that shot.

 _I'm not invincible_ , he reminded himself.

" _But_ I _am_ ," Zarathos said.

 _We'll see_.

Ghost Rider lashed his chain out to wrench the pistol out of Troll's hand. After pulling it away and tossing it aside, he lunged the chain at Troll again in an attempt to wrap it around his waist. Troll rolled aside before he could get snagged, and shot at Rider several more times, only this time Rider was able to deflect the bullets away with his own upraised hand.

Hag was back at Troll's side with her hands pressed together. Her eyes were glowing bright.

"We could use some of that power you have right now," Troll said.

Ghost Rider didn't give Hag a chance to do what she was about to do. He whipped his chain at them, which caught them both upon collision, tossing them backwards so that they smashed through the wall of the gas station.

The checker Blaze had just met a few minutes ago stumbled out in a panic, and at first sight of Rider, froze in his tracks.

The Rider pointed at him with his bony finger. " _You_ ," he said.

The checker eyes widened more and his entire body trembled.

" _Innocent_ ," Rider said.

For a few seconds, there was silence. Then the man screamed and ran away.

 _The whole pointing thing needs to go_.

Ignoring the terrified checker, Ghost Rider ran into the station to find Hag and Troll. He found Hag sitting in a corner by the coolers in the back. Her wide eyes peered up at him. Something that glowed purple was crackling between her palms.

Before Rider could lash out at her however, something struck him in the back of the head and shattered. He turned around to see Troll with another glass bottle which was shattered across his face. The Rider wasn't able to react before Troll picked him up with an inhuman amount of strength and threw him up against the ceiling, knocking out one of the lights.

" _Alright_ , now _I'm getting pissed off_ ," Zarathos said.

Ghost Rider fell back to the floor flat on his back, unable at first to move. The fire that bathed his skull was slowly flickering out.

Troll towered over him. "The boss said you cannot be easily destroyed. I'm beginning to think he was wrong."

Troll lifted his boot to stomp down on the Rider's face, but the Rider was quicker. From his belt, he produced a hidden knife and stabbed the exposed part of Troll's leg above the boot. Troll howled in pain but instead of the Rider giving up, he dug deeper until the sharp end of the knife protruded out from the other end of Troll's heel.

Amidst Troll's screams, another sound exploded through the doors of the gas station, revealing Hell Cycle wreathed in flames. The front wheel slammed into the back of Troll's head, launching him forward with the knife still in his heel. Ghost Rider reached out and grabbed the side of his ride. His arm twisted at an unnatural point, allowing him to propel himself up and land on the seat of the motorcycle. He rode straight through the back of the station, just barely missing Troll's body. Once outside, Rider was surprised to see a half-circle of ninjas armed with katanas waiting for him.

One of them screamed something in Japanese, and they all ran at him.

 _Gotta admire their courage_.

The Rider lashed out his chain without getting off the motorcycle, wrapping one end around the waist of one of his attackers. He tossed him aside to collide with another, watching the bodies fly before landing and cracking their skulls.

Another ninja leaped and plunged his katana at the Rider's head. Ghost Rider reached up, grabbed the ninja by the leg, and rode his motorcycle while dragging the opponent along with him.

Something struck the back wheel of the Rider's motorcycle. The whole thing flipped up in the air and time slowed in Blaze's mind. Upside down, the Rider spotted the attacker with the crossbow on the roof of the station. The chain went flying through his hand and tied itself around the man's legs. With a violent yank, the ninja was pulled off his feet and dragged down off the roof.

Hell Cycle rolled a few times before resting on its wheels, still coated in flames. When one ninja attempted to grab the gas cap, the flames burned his hand.

" _Ignorant fool_ ," Zarathos sneered.

Two more ninjas ran with their katanas raised at Rider, but he leaped up with a flip and Hell Cycle mowed them down as it speeding came back to its owner. Rider landed back on his ride and swerved it around in a U-turn to face the enemies that remained.

He saw Hag walking calmly through the group of men clad in black. A purple bubble crackling with energy hovered over her fingertips.

"Come and get me," she sneered.

" _She may have power_ , _but she's far weaker than us_ ," Zarathos taunted.

Ghost Rider whipped his chain in the air and charged.**

*In another part of town, Flagg sat in a greasy chair holding a black bag on his lap. The room was completely empty of people. The ugly green paint on the walls were peeling, and the floor was stained with who knew what.

 _This is your last chance_. _You do this or you walk away_.

Flagg hated it when his mind wandered during an important decision. His father was dying and Blaze was still his favorite. It was classic sibling rivalry and jealousy, but if he could just make his father proud just once if his father's time was indeed almost up.

" _Do you ever do that? Pray, I mean?"_

 _Blaze smirked. "Last time I bothered praying for something, I got swindled out of my soul."_

 _"Wow. How very dramatic. So I take it the results weren't good, then?"_

 _"Nope. Just fire and despair."_

 _Flagg laughed and raised his mug of coffee. "Well at least we get to go through fire and despair together."_

 _Blaze took up his glass of water. "You have no idea."_

 _"Here's to being the biggest screw-ups and proud," Flagg_

Flagg peered inside the bag at the money he brought to give to the sellers. It was more than he actually needed to give them, but he hoped that because of that, he would be allowed more.

Of course he didn't tell Jennifer about this. Having only been dating for a week, he had only just recently started telling Jennifer more about the stuff he wasn't very proud of, and there was a lot. For one, the most painful one, was when he left his father, Blaze, and the carnival after his sister's funeral. He was angry with Blaze for being selfish about his own expectations when it came to Roxanne, and he was frustrated with his father for not ever seeming to please him.

It was just this once. Flagg was only going to do this once.

Finally, the door that was locked opened, revealing a tall, scrawny man with a cigarette between his teeth. He wore a baseball cap and a white T-shirt that was too big for him.

"We're ready for you," he said.

Flagg got up, clutching the bag close to his chest, as if he didn't want anyone to take it, even though that's what he had come to give.

The man put a hand up, forcing Flagg to a halt.

"Bag first," he said.

Flagg reluctantly handed it to him. The man peered inside, rummaging through the cash to find anything hidden inside. Once he was satisfied, he guided Flagg along with one hand on his shoulder.

"You must be really desperate to come to us," he said.

"Something like that," Flagg replied.

Down the hall, Baseball Cap brought Flagg into a dimly-lit room where two other men were waiting around a table. On the table was a black briefcase.

Flagg's heart skipped a beat when he saw it. When one of the dealers unlocked the case, Flagg was thinking about the time he messed up Blaze's precious Captain America action figure. When the dealer was opening the case up, Flagg was thinking about the time his father talked down to him for failing one of his classes in school while Blaze moved on acing the same one. Every failure in school, every girlfriend he had ended up chasing away, and every grievance he had caused both of his parents piled up in his head until it became a burden.

When he saw the contents of the case inside, his mind went blank.

Because all he could see was the key to success. The key to making his father proud once and for all was in the form of energy boosters that came from the late Howard Stark's own research.

Baseball Cap playfully slapped Flagg's back. "You're one lucky bastard, Mr. Flagg."**

*For close combat, a long sword materialized in Ghost Rider's hand. At just the right second, the Rider leaped off Hell Cycle as it kept going. Hag leaped over it before it could crush her. Screams from other ninjas broke the air as Hell Cycle chased each of them down and ran them over.

Hag parried Rider's strike with her own long dagger. "Get to the bike!" She screamed at Troll.

Rider attempted to stop Troll as he barreled past him by breathing shots of fire at him. Even with the excruciating pain in his heel, Troll caught up with Hell Cycle, which had stopped to rest. Even Hag stopped fighting with Rider as Troll reached down to pull the gas cap off.

He was met by a long, metal spike that popped out from the cap and impaled him through the head.

" _No_!" Hag screamed.

Inside Blaze's head, he could hear Zarathos laughing.

You _did that_.

" _Of course I did_ , _why wouldn't I_?"

The now lifeless body of Troll leaned against the motorcycle until the spike retreated back into its place.

Hag was already by her brother's side, cradling his head in her lap.

"Cain, no," she whispered. Tears spilled from her eyes.

"Well, _this_ didn't go over very well," a new voice said.

Ghost Rider spun around to face a new foe standing directly outside the hole Hell Cycle made in the gas station. A tall man with long red hair, and a black robe with silver armor underneath.

" _It can't be_ ," Zarathos said.

 _What do you mean_?

Behind the newcomer were several ninjas accompanying him. All of them had their hands clasped around the hilts of their katanas, ready for anything.

 _Zarathos_ , _who is he_?

"I am Deathwatch," the man answered as if he heard what Blaze asked in his mind.

"What are you doing here?" Ghost Rider asked. Blaze had no control over what the Rider said. Zarathos was speaking for him.

"You used to be a lieutenant for Mephisto. You were one of his strongest commanders," the Rider said.

"That's right," Deathwatch replied, "but I'm not anymore. I was banished after I led an attempt on Mephisto's life. He has refused to forgive me."

Ghost Rider laughed. It was a laugh that even caused Stephen's companions to shiver.

"You threw away a great honor just to see if you could compete with him?"

Anger flashed in Stephen's blood-red eyes. "Do not speak as though you're not guilty of that kind of wrong. At least I've tried to receive his forgiveness. _You_ on the other hand, possess no remorse."

Ghost Rider started to pace like a lion inside its cage. "What is it you're after then? What do you hope to gain by destroying me?"

Half a smile slipped across Stephen's features. "Your power, and the power contained within all the other spirits of vengeance trapped inside that medallion," he said, motioning to the motorcycle. It was the first time Ghost Rider realized that Hag was missing.

"I acknowledge that it's my only known chance to stand against Mephisto and defeat him. And in his place, _I_ will rule."

"If you want the medallion," Ghost Rider said, "you'll have to go through me first."

"That's the plan," Stephen replied. He unsheathed his black sword. The glowing red runes on the blade lit up his stone-cold face.

Ghost Rider laughed again and raised the sword he still had in his hand. The two charged at each other and locked swords together, each one grunting hard as they pushed back against their opponent's strength. The ninjas accompanying Stephen moved to circle the two combatants. The two swords swung to slice flesh, aiming for the head, the torso, and the neck.

But both of the combatants were fast, spurred on by centuries of training and experience. Stephen finally managed to elbow Ghost Rider in the head, knocking him backwards but not hard enough to get more than a few seconds in to stab him. Ghost Rider raised his sword and batted Stephen's sword aside as it came inches from his chest.

"I am a demon through and through. You're just a power source inside a mortal man," Stephen said.

"A man that is already dead," Ghost Rider replied.

The Rider regained the strength to fight harder and force Stephen back. Stephen fell into the arms of two of his men. They helped him back up onto his feet.

"You are powerful. I can't deny that. But I have killed more than you ever have," Stephen declared.

His eyes flashed brighter and beneath Ghost Rider, he felt the sand on the ground burst up and form a wall around him so that he couldn't see Stephen.

" _This was how he defeated me last time_ ," Zarathos said.

Within seconds, Stephen had created a thick dust devil that kept Ghost Rider trapped inside.

Rider reproduced the chain in his hand and looked around, trying to figure out where Stephen was going to strike from.

He was too late.

From behind, Stephen struck, slicing his sword straight through the middle of the skull and shattering the whole thing.

The dust devil began to calm down, and the body of Ghost Rider fell headless to the ground.

Satisfied, Stephen walked over to Hell Cycle, which now appeared to look like a normal motorcycle. He stared down at the gas cap, feeling triumph bubble up more and more in his chest. He did it. He defeated Ghost Rider.

When he reached to take the gas cap, it moved away from him.

Stephen frowned and jerked his hand back. He realized that it wasn't just the cap that had moved away from him. The entire motorcycle appeared to have a mind of its own.

Irritated, Stephen moved again to grab the cap, but Hell Cycle moved a few paces away from him again.

"What is this?" Stephen asked.

Hell Cycle answered for him when it moved away a third time once he got too close. After the fifth time, Hell Cycle burst into flames and bolted. Shocked and confused, Stephen kept his gaze on the bike and watched it return to Ghost Rider, still headless but standing up.

" _What_?" Stephen shrieked.

Fragments of Rider's skull head were floating up and latching back onto each other to rebuild itself and place itself back on the Rider's body.

For the first time in a very long time, Stephen felt intimidated by his enemy. He hated running away, but he knew that that was the best thing to do now. Just for now.

Ghost Rider bolted for Stephen, but the demon rebel vanished in thin air, having used some sort of power to get him away.

" _He'll be back_. _Deathwatch can't be underestimated_ ," Zarathos said.

 _I just realized something_.

" _What is that_?"

Ghost Rider reverted back to the form of Johnny Blaze. He had a large grin on his face.

"You're afraid."**

*Back inside his room, Stephen thought over everything he had just seen.

 _Zarathos may be using a mortal man as a shell_ , _but he himself is still very powerful_.

Stephen knew that in order to kill Ghost Rider and take the Medallion, he had to find another method to slaughter him.

 _When I was a commander_ , _killing demons was much easier_.

 _I'll be back for Ghost Rider_. _It will take some time to learn exactly what I have to do_ , _but eventually I will have my answer and nothing will be able to stop me then_.**

*In the middle of the night, three white, unmarked vans rode through the street in downtown Santa Fe. They rode in tight formation, keeping close to each other as if they depended on one another. Eventually, they stopped on the side of the road in front of a hotel and the drivers of the vans stepped out to open the back doors and let their passengers out.

One of the passengers stopped short beside his driver.

"I feel like giving you something for your work in getting us here. Especially given the fact it was last-minute."

The driver, whose name tag said _Stan Lee_ , folded his arms. "How about those Captain America trading cards of yours?"

"We're done here," the uniformed man interjected. Leaving the driver behind, the man took the lead of the group and walked inside. The hotel lobby was nothing fancy besides a pond in the center, eternally spitting water from a mound of rock.

The uniformed man showed his laniard to the front desk and walked into a meeting room. Inside waiting was Detective Frank McGee with several other police officers.

"Agent Phil Coulson," Frank said upon spotting the new arrival.

"Hello, Frank," Coulson replied.

"Thank you for coming. I understand you just got finished with your assignment involving a playboy billionaire."

"A playboy billionaire is one thing. Someone who looks like he's sporting the best Halloween costume known to man is another," Coulson said. He sat down across from Frank.

"Start at the beginning."**


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: Hey guys, sorry for the wait! Here's the next chapter! Please leave feedback.**

*Frank McGee reviewed dozens of photos spread out on his desk in front of him. All the blood and the limbs didn't phase him anymore. In his long life as a police detective, he had seen everything. Never before however, has he seen this many supposed crime scenes without bodies. It was as if the victims had been completely incinerated into nothing. With the startlingly fast rate technology was advancing these days, something like this wasn't completely far-fetched, but still. Who had the ability to get his hands on something with that much power?

There were weapons found at most of the scenes. Long katanas and switchblades, but no guns. This meant that all these scenes were connected somehow. Something was out there hunting down these people and completely obliterating them. Frank had to accept the idea that there was a 'gifted' person lurking around in the city, which was why he had called S.H.I.E.L.D in the first place.

"I want to solve the mystery behind these fights before you bring in the big guns," Frank had told Agent Coulson during their meeting.

"But how long do you think that'll take?" Coulson asked.

"As long as it's going to take, simple as that. I just need you to be here and prepared when this mystery guy reveals himself," Frank replied.

"I respect you Frank, but we can't just stand around and do nothing. If we're going to be here, we're going to do our jobs as S.H.I.E.L.D agents, and that means doing a little investigating of our own."

"What would that leave _me_ to do?" Frank asked.

"Investigate with us. You have your gifts, we have ours. We help each other," Coulson said.

Frank smirked as he remembered the end of that conversation. Help each other, of course. He was sitting in his office alone studying the same pictures for the umpteenth time, and he was making little more progress than he did after his first study of the photos. In other words, he wasn't really getting anywhere.

It was time to start interviewing people. He needed more perspectives.**

*Flagg Fargo sat in his own garage with an energy booster in his hand. It was a long capsule with a glowing blue substance inside that was liquid but thicker like blood. All he had to do was drain it into the gas chamber of his motorcycle (he called it the Jennifer now; not the most original but Jennifer liked it).

He went to the hospital to visit his dad, afraid of what he might see. Sure enough when he came into Crash's room, the first thing he noticed was that his father's hair was gone. Despite the circumstances, Crash smiled at him as if nothing was wrong.

"This is a pleasant surprise," he said. His voice barely sounded the way Flagg was used to.

"Gee dad, I came by to see how you were doing, but you don't have your hair anymore," Flagg said.

Crash passed his hand over his now-bald head. "Yeah, it sucks doesn't it? Then again, I'm wondering if it's a good look for me now."

Flagg winced. "Don't say that, dad."

Crash's features softened and his eyes drooped. "I'm sorry. But even _I_ need the mood lightened at this time."

Flagg noticed something resting on Crash's lap. He was surprised when he realized that it was Roxanne's Bible, the same one that Johnny carried around with him.

"How did you get that?" Flagg asked.

"Oh, Blaze left it here for me. I asked him to. He'll get it back soon, but I wanted to see my daughter's highlights."

"There's a lot in there. You'd be trudging through quite a bit," Flagg said with a nervous chuckle.

Crash chuckled in return, which lifted Flagg's spirits a little. "Well, I'm only flipping through Proverbs right now. I was never a Bible reader like your sister, or your mother, but Proverbs did always resonate with me anyway. Whether or not you believe in God, this book works as a good roadmap for your life."

Flagg wanted to change the subject. Talking about the Bible with Blaze was one thing. Talking about it with his father was another matter entirely, and it made him feel more guilty.

"So dad, I'm facing up against Blaze tomorrow night. I have to make a flip over ten pickup trucks. It's not just a jump, it's a frickin' flip."

Crash hardly looked amused. "Do you believe you're capable of doing this?"

"Of course. I have been for a while."

Crash's eyes drooped again. "I lost your mother. I don't want to lose you."

"Really? You're saying this when both me and Blaze are about to lose _you_?"

"You can die after I do for all I care. I don't want to be _alive_ when you die."

Flagg took a step back and his arms fell to his sides. It began to dawn in Crash's eyes that what he said was a mistake.

"Flagg, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that."

"But you just said it."

"I only meant that I don't want someone else that I care about to die before _I_ do. I'm not saying that I simply don't care if you die."

"Well you seem to say a lot that you don't 'mean'."

"I wish you could be more understanding, Flagg. I'm on the verge of death and theoretically only have a few weeks left. I'd like to spend those last weeks not arguing with my grown-up son."

Flagg's confidence resurfaced and his shoulders straightened. "Believe me, you won't. I'm going to outdo Blaze tomorrow, which will be the most you'll ever see me do."

"I wish you luck with that Flagg, but sit down. Let's talk about something else. How are you and Jennifer doing? What's Blaze up to these days?"

The idea of sitting down beside his father and having a normal conversation felt almost far-fetched to Flagg, especially since they rarely had any. But if his father believed that it was actually possible for them to do that, then maybe just maybe they could.

Flagg gave in and sat down in the chair beside his dad's bed. Half a smile sliced through Crash's features and the creases through his face became more visible, which brought tears to Flagg's eyes. Was this really it? Was his father going away for good?

"No crying while we talk. Cry when you go home tonight but not here," Crash said.

Flagg gulped and nodded his head. "Sorry."

"No need to be. Now, when am I going to get to see this pretty lady that I keep hearing about?"

Half a smile infected Flagg now. "Soon. Really soon."

"I never told you how I met your mother did I?"

"It sounds like I'm about to be thrown into a spin-off of the TV series."

Crash weakly laughed, which led to a coughing fit but his mood didn't change. "Only if you want to."

Flagg adjusted himself in his seat to get more comfortable. "Tell me."**

*The sickly pale woman Hag returned to her hideout after burying her brother Cain. He died unfairly, she believed that without a doubt. She never returned to Stephen Lords after the big fight by the gas station. She didn't want to be traced by the authorities nor did she want them to even receive a hint that she was involved. Now S.H.I.E.L.D was involved, and that was Stephen's problem, not hers.

When she opened the door to her own room, she was mildly surprised to see one of her partners, who was part of the same group of dealers that gave Flagg the energy boosters.

"Martin," she said.

Martin Thraller was a skinny, tall man with jet-black hair and green eyes. He was sitting on the edge of Hag's bed with both of his hands clasped together over his cane.

"Hello, my dear," he said. He got up but stopped short when he realized something.

"Oh my condolences. I heard about what happened to Cain."

Hag's eyes narrowed. "Let's not talk about that."

"Capital idea, my dear. We're late anyway."

"Late for what?"

"Speaking with our contact."

From his pocket, Martin produced a small, silver device and placed it on Hag's desk. After punching in a code, a holographic screen projected itself onto the wall, revealing the CEO of Hammer Industries himself, Justin Hammer. He didn't have the looks of a leader as much as Hag had at first expected, but his power couldn't be underestimated. As a weapons expert and distributor, he competed against Stark and his own tech, but he was also a thief. He was the one that provided Hag and Martin the energy boosters that Flagg was requesting, but he didn't do it willingly.

"Oh it's you Halloween fangirls again," Hammer said with a sigh upon seeing them.

"You know why we're calling you," Hag said.

"What if I say 'no'?" Hammer asked.

Martin stepped forward with a fiendish grin. His hands were still cradling the top of his staff and his green eyes had a twinkle in them that wasn't natural. It was the implants behind his eyes that were going to take control of Hammer's mind.

"You know what we want. We want more energy boosters. And you will send them to us right away," he said.

Something like confusion passed over Hammer's face but he nodded in agreement before dwelling on it any longer.

"I'll send them to you right away," he said.

"Thank you, Mr. Hammer."

Before Hammer could change his mind, Martin pressed a button on the communication device to hang up the video call.

"Flagg is becoming quite a needy customer," he said.

"He's desperate. He's desperate to be better than his competitors. Much like Hammer actually," Hag pointed out.

Martin laughed and the twinkle came back into his eyes. "You know what I want."

Hag's thoughts went blurry and all she could think about then was getting up close and personal with Martin. She walked up to him, took his face in her hands, and kissed him full on the lips and didn't let go. Martin didn't push her away or demand for her to stop. He embraced it and his cane fell away onto the ground.

 _This is what I want too.**_

*When it came to lighting the stadium up, Ralph Quentin went over-the-top. It was as if the sky had opened up and the heavens was bathing the place and everyone in it. Still, everyone cheered and everyone was screaming for a good show.

Flagg looked up at the audience stands and wondered for a moment about the kind of audience they were appealing to. It was as if they _wanted_ someone to fail the stunt and die. It didn't feel like these people were cheering for a good show, it felt like they were cheering for blood.

What the audience was really there to see the show for didn't matter right now. This was Flagg's opportunity to test the energy booster in his motorcycle for the first time. He hoped there were no additional noises it made to give it away or any side effects. He was dealing with groundbreaking technology that very few average individuals ever got the opportunity to play around with.

Johnny Blaze was sitting on Hell Cycle next to him with his helmet on and ready. He was staring straight ahead seemingly eyeing the course in front of them, but upon closer examination, Flagg could tell that his gaze was focused on something else he couldn't see. What was going on in that head of his?

Ralph's voice cut right through Flagg's thoughts. "Are you ready?"

He was talking to the audience, and the audience was roaring back.

 _Get your head into the game_. _You can't drift away_ now.

Time slowed and all Flagg could hear was his motorcycle's engine roaring. He felt along the handles as they vibrated. He immersed himself so that he wasn't a person anymore, he was a vehicle with one singular purpose. Survive.

"Go!" Ralph shouted.

All sounds returned and flooded Flagg's senses, and he stepped on the gas. It didn't take long for him to realize that something was terribly wrong. Within a second, way quicker than was normal, he was already shooting up the ramp. He hadn't even been able to prepare for his flip and he was going a lot higher than normal too.

Of course, the audience didn't care. They had never seen anything like it before. The roars of the crowd rose higher and Flagg's heart rate skyrocketed as he realized that there was nothing he could do.**

*From his room in the hospital, Crash watched Flagg's unbelievable jump with wide eyes.

"What the hell? Impossible," he gasped.**

*It was as if the booster caused the motorcycle to power up like a rocket once it sailed up the ramp. Flagg could feel himself turning so that he was facing the opposite side.

 _Don't faint_ _don't faint_.

Finally, the motorcycle landed on the dirt, giving Flagg the opportunity he needed to grind it to a halt, kicking up a cloud of dust. Blaze was only midway up the starting ramp, staring at Flagg with wide eyes. He had taken his helmet off and his face was coated in sweat. The crowd had fallen silent, and even Ralph was speechless.

"Flagg!" Jennifer yelled as she ran to him. "Are you okay?"

Flagg removed his helmet and tossed it aside, feeling every part of his body trembling. He tried to get out of his seat but he shaking so hard it was nearly impossible. Jennifer grabbed hold of him and helped him off.

"What happened? Were you meant to do that?" She asked.

Flagg wordlessly shook his head and leaned into Jennifer's shoulder. Confused, Jennifer wrapped her arms around him in a comforting embrace.

"It's alright. It's over. You're not hurt," she said.

Flagg may not be hurt, but any confidence he had felt not too long ago was now replaced by rising levels of fear and anger. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Blaze approach them. He looked less concerned now and more thoughtful as if he just realized something that he hadn't before.

"Flagg. Buddy, is there anything I can do?" He asked.

Flagg didn't respond. He didn't even have the strength to shake his head.

While Ralph told the audience that something was wrong with Flagg's motorcycle and that everything was alright, Jennifer helped Flagg out of the arena. Flagg wondered as he left if it was the last time he would ever be in there.**

*"What the hell happened? How did it go so horribly wrong?" Flagg demanded. He stood in front of Hag and several other members of the black market in their hideout.

"You must've put the booster in wrong. There's no way that would've had something wrong on its own," Hag hissed.

"I really thought that I could rely on you and this crap, but this stuff screwed me over big time. Now I'm gonna be confronted by my boss any time now," Flagg replied.

"Mr. Flagg, I assure you, this stuff works. If you don't know how to put it in yourself, one of my men can do it for you, but it'll cost you extra."

"I'm with someone now. I can't just throw money away whenever something sounds appealing," Flagg said.

"You won't be 'throwing money away' Mr. Flagg. We can fix this, and you can give us one more chance. If this fails again, then we won't ask you anymore."

Flagg stared at the briefcase full of boosters sitting on the only table in the room.

"Those things have a real kick to them. I'll admit that," he said.

Hag grinned. "You see? You can't resist them can you? Surely you're the only one in that show that uses things like these aren't you?"

"Yes," Flagg admitted.

"Then don't throw this opportunity away so easily," Hag said.

"If I do, it's for a good reason. I'm sorry, but I can't," Flagg insisted.

"You know what you want," a new voice said that startled Flagg. He turned to see a tall man who was hunched over, using the support of his cane to walk. There was an eery twinkle in his green eyes that arrested Flagg's attention.

"You want to win. You want to beat your competitor. You want to have another booster," he said.

"I want to have another booster," Flagg said, turning back to Hag.

Hag grinned again. "Excellent. I'm so glad you're willing to give us another chance," she said. She took up the briefcase and handed it to Flagg.

"You won't regret this," she said.

"I hope not," Flagg replied.

Just then, before anyone could say anything more, the double doors behind Flagg exploded. Flagg felt himself get thrown across the room. His grip lost the briefcase and liquid-hot pain hollered through his side as he slammed against the wall. Something wet coursed down his cheek and dripped off his chin, revealing blood.

He heard something like a terrifying roar, which eerily sounded like the audience during his failed stunt, but this sound echoed and pierced his eardrums like needles. Flagg struggled to get on his knees and peek over the table. What he saw made him wish he didn't get up.

A large thing with a flaming skull for a head was fighting one of the market dealers. Hag and the man with the cane were gone. The dealer hollered in terror as he fired multiple rounds from his pistol at the skull man, which didn't appear to affect it at all. The skull man grabbed the dealer by the neck and held him up off his feet, then with its other bony hand, it impaled him with something that looked like a staff, except it was made out of chains. The dealer let loose its last wet breath and the skull man dropped him to the ground in a heap. Everyone else that stood in the skull man's way were dead. Their corpses littered the floor and the air stank of blood.

Flagg dipped behind the table and stayed where he was. Through sweat and tears, he kept still to avoid being detected. He just wanted to break down and cry. Everything was falling apart so quickly he only needed one more thing that could make him break.

Somehow, through the air, he thought he could hear something like a demonic whisper, almost as if the skull man was communicating somehow.

 _Stop it_ , _stop it, just stay still_.

After one more animalistic roar, the skull man stomped out of the room, leaving Flagg alone, shaking and crying.

He had to tell someone, and he didn't care if that someone didn't believe him. Iron men were flying around the world now. The world was changing, and that meant people were going to have to start believing the impossible.**


	6. Chapter 6

"So you saw a man with a flaming skull for a head," Frank McGee repeated as he took notes.

Flagg was sitting across from him with his hands on his legs, trying to keep his posture straight. After everything he had seen, it proved to be a difficult task. "You don't believe me."

"I didn't say that. I'm just trying to process all this," Frank said.

"Where were you when you saw this guy?" A tall man standing next to Frank asked.

Flagg looked at the man then back at Frank with a questioning expression.

"Answer his question," Frank pushed.

"Who is he?" Flagg asked.

"Don't worry about it. He's a friend. You can trust him. Just tell us where you were."

Flagg couldn't tell a police detective and some anonymous man that he was meeting with traders from the black market. That would give him a one-way ticket to a jail cell and he just got a girlfriend. Maybe he would end up there one day, but it couldn't be now.

"I was—dragged into a building by some muggers. The room was empty except for a table and they wanted to empty my wallet. That's when the skull guy showed up and I hid behind the table until it left," Flagg explained. His heart rate sped up when he saw the skeptical look on the tall man's face.

"If you take us to this building, will we find bodies there?" Flagg asked, sharing some of that skepticism.

"No, that's one of the craziest parts. All the bodies of the muggers were reduced to ashes."

"By the skull bastard?" Frank asked.

"By the skull—bastard."

Frank sat back in his seat and chewed his lower lip in thought. Flagg wished he was able to see inside the detective's head and find out his thoughts. Frank's expressions were unfathomable. He couldn't tell he was more leaning towards believing Flagg or the other way around. Finally, he broke the silence.

"On any ordinary day Mr. Flagg, we'd excuse your story as complete crap, but believe it or not, your story lines up with what's been going on lately in this city."

"So you're saying I might've seen Ghost Rider?" Flagg asked.

"You very well could've. I will take a team over to the building you were dragged into to observe the scene. For now your story checks out. Just give me the address of this building and you're free to go, but expect a call from me if I need more information."

"Thank you, sir," Flagg replied, relieved of being let go.**

*After Flagg left, Frank was left alone with Coulson at his side. Frank was "gifted" himself. A man who ended up with abilities that he never wanted nor asked for, but in the end, they gave him his career, and that was something he was always going to be grateful for.

"So it's official. We may be dealing with something particularly special here," Frank said.

"Great. Then you know S.H.I.E.L.D will have to get involved in this. Director Fury requests that I bring this 'special' person in at all costs."

"You're putting agents on every corner of the streets?" Frank asked.

"More or less. We have to be ready for the next time this Ghost Rider strikes," Coulson replied.

"But this Ghost Rider appears to only be taking out bad guys. He has not harmed any of the innocent people that were found on the murder scenes," Frank pointed out.

"Be that as it may, he's abusing power that he doesn't have the right to. Taking out the bad guys is _your_ job, not his. Besides, how do you know he's only taking out _bad_ people? You can't really talk to ash to find out whether or not they're good or bad," Coulson said.

Frank was speechless. He couldn't respond because he knew that Coulson was right. Plus, what if the Ghost Rider decides to abuse his power in ways that are wrong and endanger the city?

He knew that his opinion didn't matter at that point. Santa Fe was the property of S.H.I.E.L.D until Ghost Rider was found and taken in.

"Do what you have to do," Frank finally said.

A warm smile spread across Coulson's face. "Excellent. You won't regret this," he said. Frank looked up to see a thin, Asian woman step into his office. Her look meant business. She wasn't the type of person at all to be messed with and her stance looked like she was ready to pounce any second. Coulson walked up to her.

"Are all agents on stand-by?" He asked.

"Yes. Should I tell them to set up checkpoints?" The woman asked.

"That would be wonderful. All the locations for the checkpoints are on here," Coulson said handing her a digital tablet.

The woman took the tablet and nodded with a small smile. "So we're taking him in then?"

"Yes, May. We're taking him in."**

*It was awkward for Blaze being in the garage alone with Jennifer when Flagg was late. Flagg had promised to come over to discuss his next performance after the disaster that was his last one. Blaze felt sorry for Flagg after Ralph Quentin confronted him. Quentin didn't chew him out for the results of the stunt. He asked for more of the same.

"I don't know how you pulled it off, but you gave the audience something they've never seen before. They _loved_ it," he had told him.

"I can't do that again, sir. It was a mistake. It should've never happened."

As awkward as Blaze felt, he couldn't stay silent much longer. He felt bad for Jennifer.

"How are you and Flagg doing?" He asked. He opened his mini fridge to pull out a beer.

"Oh, we're doing good," Jennifer replied, "about as well as I expected."

"Better shut off those expectations. They'll never be reached. Beer?"

"I'll take water, thank you."

Blaze reached further into the back of the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water and handed it to Jennifer.

"Why are you telling me to shut off my expectations?" She asked.

Blaze leaned against the fridge and took a swig from his beer. "I'm not saying that you'll be disappointed in the relationship. I'm saying that the direction you believe it'll go will most likely not happen."

"How do you know?" Jennifer asked.

Blaze smirked. "Trust me, I know. But it's not reason to worry. It just means you'll get something better out of it. If Flagg is the right man, which I like to think he is, then what you'll be getting is far better than what you could've hoped for."

Jennifer relaxed and smiled. "I can't deny I have my own set of expectations."

"All of us do, we just don't always realize it. But people who _do_ , and expect everything to go the way they want them to go, usually end up anxious and disappointed at every turn."

"I never believed that Flagg was a perfect person," Jennifer said.

Blaze chuckled. "Good, he's not. But he's a good man, and that's typically enough."

"But I'm well aware that _you're_ not perfect either," Jennifer pointed out.

Blaze stopped midway through a sip. "Oh yeah? What has Flagg told you?"

"He told me how you cut his hair while he was asleep when he was just eleven years old. He told me that you took his very first car out into a field and set it on fire after he crashed your first motorcycle."

Blaze laughed. "He was able to get the license plate barely scathed. He did his own share of crap too. I don't know if I'll ever fully forgive him for what he did to my Captain America action figure."

"He told me that story," Jennifer laughed. "He's not afraid to admit his own faults."

"Good, so you know we're _both_ crazy."

"Crazy may actually be an understatement. But like you said, Flagg is a good man. And that's all I can ask for," Jennifer said.

As if on queue, Flagg stumbled in through the garage door looking as though he was lost.

"Please tell me you've got a beer I can take," he said to Blaze.

"Always," Blaze replied, gesturing to the fridge. As if finally finding water after journeying through desert, Flagg flung the fridge door open and pulled a beer out for himself.

"So. Is there an occasion?" Blaze asked.

"Depends on how you'd define it," Flagg replied.

"Flagg, babe, what's wrong?" Jennifer asked.

"Remember that Ghost Rider dude thats been in the news lately?"

"Yeah," Jennifer said. Blaze flinched but no one saw him.

"I saw him. Last night. Skull on fire and everything," Flagg said.

"Where?" Blaze asked.

"Downtown in an unmarked building. It was fighting these black market dealers," Flagg explained.

While Flagg talked, Blaze was felt something like the flu building up in his head and clogging his ears. He had started to feel hints of it when Flagg first came in but now it was coming down on him hard.

It was the feeling he got when Zarathos can sense someone guilty nearby. And it was coming from Flagg.

Was Flagg there with the dealers last night trading with them? What business exactly did he have with them?

Something tingled along his arm and he looked down to see tiny blue flames licking his sleeve.

" _Flagg is guilty. He was there_ , _making deals with people that he shouldn't be making with_."

 _No_ , _no_. _Don't do this_. _You can't make me do this_.

" _I'm_ making _you do this? No, Johnny_. _You want justice as much as_ I _do_."

Thankfully, as soon as Flagg turned to face Johnny, the flames had winked out.

"You should've been there with me man. I was alone," Flagg said.

" _Liar_."

"You didn't die. That's the most important part. Did you go to the police about it?" Blaze asked.

"Yeah. I was afraid I'd look crazy to them but they believe me. They've been tracking down the same thing."

"Did they say anything about what they were going to do about it?" Blaze asked. He had to know these things to try and figure out his next move.

"Uh, they're going to investigate the building Ghost Rider was last seen in and try and look for clues."

 _Well_ that's _not much of a concern. The police have investigated dozens of scenes and haven't appeared to find anything_.

The good news of there being no new news about the police's investigation was trampled over by the pounding headache he felt. Flagg was with the dealers for some reason, that much he knew. But he couldn't just simply ask Flagg what he was doing. It would give away too much about his identity as the Ghost Rider, and that wasn't something Flagg needed to know right now, if at all.

"Good," Blaze replied. "I'm sure they're doing the best they can. Right now, tell me what you're going to do about your stunt work."

Flagg's frown turned into a grin. "Yeah, I negotiated with Quentin about giving our show another try, done right this time. It's gonna be you and me again pal. Tomorrow night."

"Are you sure you're ready for this again?" Jennifer asked.

"I have to be. I can't just stop. I had the Jennifer looked over and given all the necessary repairs. I've done this more times than I can count. One mistake doesn't mean the end of a career," Flagg said.

"Then we're with you. I promise we are. _I_ am anyway," Blaze replied, glancing at Jennifer.

Jennifer let loose a half-grin. "Of course I'm with him."

Meanwhile, inside Blaze's head, Zarathos was scratching and clawing to get his way out and shred Flagg's soul.

Then Blaze got the phone call.**

*Crash Simpson was dying in his hospital bed with Flagg, Jennifer, and Blaze beside him. Crash's withered skin was slowly turning pale and the light in his eyes was winking out. It looked as though his whole body was trying to vanish, one bit at a time, and Crash struggled to stay alive for just a few minutes longer. Just long enough to say what he wanted to say to his children.

"I wish things were better," Crash said. "But I can only say some things that needed to be said for a while now."

"Dad, don't stress yourself out. Not now," Flagg urged him.

Crash's gaze shifted to lock on to Blaze. "Johnny, my boy. I forgive you. For everything."

Blaze's mind jerked itself back into the memory of the accident that claimed the life of Crash's wife, and Roxanne's mother. He still remembered the screams and the blood so well as if it had just happened yesterday. Tears rose in his eyes.

" _Too little too late_. _What has he actually done for you in the past few years_?"

"I should've let it go long ago, but it was—it wasn't easy for me. I'm so, so sorry," Crash said.

" _Weak words from a man who always only cared about himself_."

"Shut up!" Blaze screamed.

Crash's expression immediately fell and sadness plagued his eyes.

" _Johnny_ ," Flagg sneered with his teeth bared.

"No, I—I didn't mean—."

"Flagg…" Crash whispered.

"Dad, I'm here. Stay with me," Flagg said. He took Crash's hand and held on tight.

"Flagg—."

Before Crash couldn't say anything more however, the life left his eyes and he breathed his last, leaving the world behind with Flagg sobbing at his bedside.

Blaze felt the tears running down his cheeks as momentum of his mistake broke down every bone inside of him and it hurt like a razor shredding his skin.

Jennifer reached over and placed a comforting hand on Flagg's shoulder. Flagg's sobbing didn't last long however, as Blaze watched him transition from grief to scarlet-faced rage, and his eyes were trained on Blaze.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" He asked.

"Flagg, you have to believe me. I didn't mean that to be directed towards Crash," Blaze said. How much could he tell him? How much could he tell him in front of Jennifer?

"Oh so there was someone else you were saying that too then, is _that_ it?" Flagg asked. He mocked Blaze by looking around for someone in the room that wasn't there.

"Where is this mystery person? What did he say that offended you _so_ much?" He demanded.

"Flagg, don't," Jennifer said.

More tears spilled down Flagg's cheeks. "Great way for dad to leave us, John. _Terrific_."

Blaze wanted to say something more, but he couldn't find the words for it.

 _I can't tell him he's Ghost Rider_ , _I just can't_. _Especially not now_.

Flagg got up, bumped past Blaze and stormed out of the room. Jennifer looked at Blaze, uncertain what to think, and left him behind too with his dead stepdad.

"I was promised that I can heal people, no matter the sickness. I was lied to," Blaze said to Zarathos.

" _You're not invincible. You have abilities to save lives, but that doesn't make you God_ ," Zarathos replied.

"You made my stepfather think that I didn't accept his apology!" Blaze screamed.

" _You brought that on yourself by not using restraint_."

"Always passing the blame on to someone else. You _are_ a coward."

Just then, Blaze felt something like a needle sticking down through his neck and he fell onto his knees. His face glistened with sweat and he couldn't breathe.

" _If I had the power_ , _I would kill you right now and take over your body_. _You would be nothing but a vessel for my accomplishments. Insulting me and calling me a coward will not help the situation. You need to abandon your friends_ , _so that we can continue our work hunting down and destroying Deathwatch_."

The pain in Blaze's throat subsided, allowing him to talk. "Deathwatch hasn't shown himself in several weeks. He's not powerful enough to take the Medallion."

" _But he will try it again_. _I know him_. _He will stop at nothing to achieve his goal_ , _and if he does_ , _it will mean the end of your friends_."

"He won't win."

" _No_ , _you're right_. _He won't_. If, _you keep your focus on finding and defeating him_."

"But how? How do I find him?" Blaze asked.

" _Perhaps you_ don't _need to find him_. _You can let_ him _find_ us."

"How?"

" _By sacrificing a soul_. _A guilty one_. _One that will draw the attention of Deathwatch, but it has to be someone close to you. The emotions following it will create a stronger beacon for him to see_. _With all the souls I have consumed,_ _how do you think he was able to find you in the first place_?"

"Not Flagg."

" _He is the only one you know now who is close to you_. _It_ has _to be him_!"

Blaze watched as his arms burst into flames and the skin on his hands peeled away revealing bone.

" _You wanted the power to bring justice and make the world a safer place for the ones you care about_. _Use that power_."

 _Don't let him take you_ , _don't let him take you_.

But of course, he did.

 _Flagg_!**

*Flagg stood before Hag and her companion Martin at a new rendezvous point, which was a one-bedroom apartment directly above a Subway. Every time Flagg heard a police siren outside, he stiffened as if afraid that it was because someone had called the police on them.

"You look particularly dazed tonight, Mr. Flagg," Martin said.

"Just—a lot has been going on. I'm still trying to recover from our last meeting," Flagg replied.

"The Ghost Rider. We lost a lot of clients because of his appearance," Hag informed.

"But you're back, which means you want more?" Martin asked.

"Yes, especially now. I want whatever you can give me. I know how I can get them to work correctly this time," Flagg said.

"Why the drive for more now?" Martin asked.

"I have a score to settle with my competitor now. It's complicated," Flagg said.

"And you're willing to give us the same sum of money?"

"I—don't have as much this time. I was hoping that we can negotiate."

An uneasy smile spread across Martin's features. He adjusted his pose with his cane. "We absolutely can, Mr. Flagg. Tell me, do you have your own name for your motorcycle?"

Flagg felt like he was zoning out, as if the conversation bored him. He felt his lips move without him commanding them to. "Yes."

"What is it?"

"The Jennifer."

"Ah, and is Jennifer the name of someone special to you?"

Again, Flagg felt himself speaking without wanting to. "Yes. My girlfriend."

Martin's eyes widened and his smile grew bigger. The unnatural twinkle in his eyes brightened. "I see. Then you know what we want. We want you to give us Jennifer for your next set of energy boosters."

Hag frowned. She turned to look at Martin with one eyebrow raised.

"I—I don't think—."

"Shhh, you know what we want," Martin said.

Flagg caved in, against his own will inside his head. "It's what you want."

"Then go. Beat your opponent in the next show, and if you don't, Jennifer is ours," Martin said.**

*When Flagg left, Hag followed Martin into the kitchen.

"What are you planning exactly?" Hag asked.

"We can't stay here much longer," Martin insisted. "The Ghost Rider found us once, he will find us again. It's only a matter of time. The reason why I want Jennifer is none of your business."

"I can face the Ghost Rider. We _both_ can. We have abilities," Hag said.

"You can throw purple balls of fire and I can manipulate people's minds. It's not enough against him. The problem is, the Ghost Rider doesn't even have eyes to look into for my abilities to work. I know when something would be too difficult to meddle with. We leave in two days."

When Martin turned his back on Hag as an indicator that the conversation was over, Hag stopped him with her hand.

"Maybe you're right," she said.

"I am," Martin insisted.

"But it's not just for the reasons you speak of."

Martin frowned and waited for an explanation.

"I'm pregnant," Hag announced.

Martin allowed the news to sink in for a moment before responding.

"Well, crap."**

*Amidst the audience surrounding the arena at Quentin's Carnival, Detective Frank McGee and Agent Phil Coulson took seats to watch the show. Their reasons for being there had nothing to do with being entertained. It was because the Ghost Rider's tracks led them there.

Thanks to the work of security cameras and descriptions from other people, they were able to match the make and model of Ghost Rider's motorcycle to Johnny Blaze's after speaking with Quentin about his performers. It was possible that nothing too thrilling was going to happen during the show, but they payed special attention to Blaze anyway, who was readying himself on one end of the arena, with his competitor Flagg Simpson alongside him.

At the center of the arena were two ramps with thirteen school buses lined up between them. The two competitors had to perform a flip over them as well as achieve the greatest height while in the air.

"I never understood this profession," Coulson admitted.

"What?" Frank asked.

"I never understood how someone can work a job where he risks his life like this just for the sake of entertaining others," Coulson said.

"You and me both risk _our_ lives because of _our_ profession," Frank pointed out.

"For the sake of saving people, not entertaining them. There's a massive difference."

Frank agreed. He never liked the stunt shows anyway. He couldn't watch them because of the risks involved, which to him was a sign that he was getting old. When he was a teenager living with a single mother, making jumps on his bike was what he filled most of his summers with doing. Then he eventually started listening to police scanners and riding his bike to different crime scenes to observe them from a safe distance. He loved being on the move, but he wanted to be doing something worthwhile while he was at it.

"Ladies and gentlemen! You are here to witness another exciting event between Jonathan Blaze and Flagg Simpson!" Quentin announced.

The audience went nuts. The reaction from the crowd was louder and wilder than Frank expected, and he needed to focus. Drawing upon his own abilities, his vision zoomed in on Blaze's motorcycle and snapped a mental photo to put aside in his mind for later. If Blaze was indeed the Ghost Rider, and should Frank miss out on seeing him transform, it would be easier to find out whether or not the motorcycle was the same.

"But first, we must take a moment to pay our respects to the passing of a dear friend. A man who has worked here longer than anyone else. Flagg's father, Crash Simpson, was an honorable man with a heart of gold for this great carnival. He died of cancer yesterday afternoon, and he will be greatly missed. Some of our shows will just not be the same without him. So please, let us honor him with a short moment of silence before we begin," Quentin said.

Coulson and Frank stayed quiet during the silence, but Frank's mind was running rampant with questions. Was the Ghost Rider really Blaze? Did Flagg know? Did Quentin know?

 _Fingers crossed that Ghost Rider will reveal himself tonight_.**

*Flagg didn't even so much as glance at Blaze while they were waiting for Quentin to give them the signal to go. During the silence that was meant to honor Crash, all Flagg could think about was the manner in which he died. It wasn't right. It was messed up and should've never happened. Flagg desired vengeance somehow, even though no one had actually _killed_ his father per se.

 _This is for you, dad_. _I'm going to win this for_ you.

Finally, the silence was over and the noise came roaring back over him like strong thunder in a storm over the sea. Every part of his body shifted as he readied himself for another attempt at beating Blaze. Most likely, this was going to be his last chance.**

*Next to Flagg, Blaze was trying not to look like he was breathing so hard. But he was. Sweat stung his eyes and dripped from his hair.

" _Let it out_. _Let the Ghost Rider out_. _Let Flagg feel what he's done wrong_."

 _No_ , _NO!_

Tiny flames coiled around the handlebars of Hell Cycle, threatening to consume the entire motorcycle.

"No. _No_ ," Blaze muttered. He clasped his hands over the parts of the bars that were on fire, extinguishing the flames. It did him no good. Fire lapped at his speedometer.

"Oh no," Blaze whispered.

"Three!" Quentin cried.

" _It'll be quick_. _Just let it go_. _He won't feel a thing_."

"Two!"

" _Come on, Blazey_."

"One! Go!"

Flagg bolted for the ramp, but Blaze stayed right where he was.**

*Both Frank and Coulson leaned forward in their seats as they saw that Blaze wasn't budging.

 _This is it_.**

*"No. _NO!_ " Blaze screamed, but it was too late. Fire consumed him until he was reduced to what he was inside. The demon armed with a chain to destroy the guilty.

Ghost Rider screamed as if in terrible pain. Dozens of members in the audience clamped their hands over their ears to drown out the nightmarish shrieks.**

*Coulson stood up and tapped his earpiece. "May, we need backup here, stat!"**

*As if in slow motion from Blaze's perspective, he watched the chain that he was holding in his own bony hand whip its way towards Flagg's motorcycle. The end wrapped itself around the back wheel and Ghost Rider yanked back to send Flagg flying off.**

*A hooded man standing behind one of the booths tapped his own earpiece to contact his master.

"Boss, we have a problem. The Ghost Rider is here and is after Flagg."**

*Martin was watching the entire chaotic scene unfold from the apartment with a tablet, having hacked into one of the carnival's security cameras. Hag stood next to him looking on nervously.

"Grab Jennifer and bring the truck here. We're leaving the city," he said.

"Yes, sir," the man replied over the earpiece. Martin spun around and walked away to get ready to go.**


	7. Chapter 7

All around Ghost Rider, he could feel all the wrongs of the guilty within the audience. It was too much. It overwhelmed him to the core. Where was he supposed to start? How could he wipe out all the injustice with all the people there. The guilty were mixed with the innocent, and he couldn't kill the innocent.

" _Flagg isn't dead yet_. _Go finish him_."

Ghost Rider snapped to attention, ignoring the pulsing evil surrounding him. He stomped over to the buses and climbed onto one of them, finding Flagg out cold. His helmet had protected most of his head from any damage. The Rider knelt down and began reaching its hand out to grab Flagg by the neck. He was stopped short when several bullets struck through his back. He whirled around to see several men dressed in business-like suits firing at him with guns that contained blue bullets.

These people weren't just any ordinary men shooting at him. They were trained for situations like this. Situations in which they had to face off against 'special' people. The Rider leaped down off the bus and unwrapped his chain to confront them. The other end of it spiraled straight through the chest of one of the agents and exploded out the back, killing the man instantly. The chain wiggled itself out, leaving the corpse behind.

It then formed itself into a staff, and Ghost Rider twirled it in one hand, deflecting the bullets back at the agents until all of them were down. Before he could turn back to Flagg, he spotted someone in a hood dragging someone away past the booths and out into the night.

 _Jennifer_.

With a snap of his bony fingers, Ghost Rider summoned Hell Cycle to come straight beside him.

 _At least this is one good thing I can do_.**

*Jennifer was shoved into the back of a large truck a safe distance away from the carnival by two hooded thugs. One of them was holding a machine gun with the name _Hammer_ etched into the side of the barrel.

Jennifer didn't say anything, for fear of riling up her captors. She gathered her knees up in her arms and stayed still but her heart was rattling out of control. Where was Flagg? Was he dead?

 _No. No_ , _don't think like that_.

Jennifer hadn't known Flagg for a significantly long time, but she knew enough about him to be convinced that he was a good man. Misguided at times, but still good.

One of the thugs leaned down to gaze at Jennifer. The cigarette between his teeth flared a yellow-white flash from its end.

"What's up, Jennifer?" He asked.

"Tommy. I see you still kiss my brother's boots," Jennifer said.

Tommy grinned and shrugged. "I get good bucks from him. He doesn't want to hurt you, Jen. He's just punishing your boyfriend."

"What did he do?"

"Hey! Stop talking to him," the second thug with the _Hammer_ guin bellowed.

Tommy raised his hand. "Go get in the car, Seth. I've got this."

Seth scowled but reluctantly walked around to get into the driver's side. Tommy leaned in to lower his voice.

"You mean your boyfriend didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what?" Jennifer asked.

"Flagg has been buying energy boosters off your brother and the gang to compete against that Blaze guy. It's old Stark equipment bought off the black market."

Jennifer's eyes widened and her heart rate sped up so high her hand went to her chest. "What?"

A glimmer of sympathy flitted across Tommy's eyes. "I'm sorry, Jen."

"Wait—."

Before Jennifer could say anything more. Tommy shut the truck up, trapping her in the dark.**

*Flagg woke up coughing up blood. The lights from above felt like they were blinding him, trying to wink his vision out entirely.

 _Where am I?_

He strained to look down at his jacket. A large bloodstain coated the shirt beneath it.

 _Well, that's not good_.

Then his memories came firing back through his brain on all cylinders. Riding up the ramp. Feeling something snag onto his motorcycle. The sensation of feeling like all of his insides were falling in a heap to the bottom of his stomach, and then finally—hitting the top of one of the buses.

And now he was lying on one of them in an awkward position. His arm protested in a searing agony that caused him to yelp in pain. He was surprised when he looked around and saw that most of the arena was empty now. Almost everyone had fled, but he could hear a lot of chaos going on outside.

"Are you okay, sir?" Someone shouted from below him. Flagg flinched and looked down to see a tall man in a business suit staring up at him.

"Who are you?" Flagg asked.

"Agent Phil Coulson of the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division."

Flagg smirked. "You guys need a shorter name."

Coulson smiled halfway. "We get that a lot. Are you badly hurt?"

Flagg attempted moving most of his muscles, surprised how flexible he felt given the circumstances.

"I'm bleeding. I'm probably gonna need some bandages but I think I'll be alright."

"Then come down, you need to come with me."

Flagg frowned. "Why? What's wrong? Where did everybody go?"

"My agents are dealing with that problem. Right now, you need to tell me everything you know about Johnny Blaze."**

*Frank McGee blew a long, exasperated sigh. He already knew that this was going to be a long night, and things just kept piling up. He had received a call that there was a large, black truck riding over the speed limit and endangering other drivers. He wondered if there was a connection between the drivers of that truck and the incident that took place in the carnival.

Whatever it meant didn't matter to him right now. His target was a safe distance ahead of him. Ghost Rider. He was intent on finally learning the truth about the mysterious being and its motives tonight, and if it came down to a fight, then he would at least have some powers of his own to use against it.

"Frank, I've got Flagg. Where are you?" Coulson asked over his radio. Frank took the radio and brought to his mouth.

"I've got my sights on the Ghost Rider. He can't go anywhere without me seeing him."

"Keep your distance. I don't want you to lose your life tonight."

"If I do, at least it will be while I'm fighting."**

*The black truck with Jennifer trapped in the back pulled over to the side of the road where Martin and Hag stood waiting.

"Get in the passenger's seat with Seth," Martin ordered Hag.

"You're not coming with me?" Hag asked.

"No. Not yet. I want to face the Ghost Rider myself, and I have a feeling that he won't chase you beyond the city limits if you hurry."

Hag touched Martin's shoulder. "But that would mean leaving you behind."

"Yes, it's sad and heartbreaking. Now go."

Martin pulled himself away from Hag's touch, then opened the back of the truck to get one look at Jennifer.

"Hello, sister."

"Martin, why do you want me?" Jennifer asked.

"Sorry, sis. It's not you, it's your boyfriend. You need to choose your men more wisely."

"Flagg is a good man," Jennifer insisted.

"Are you sure? He agreed to give you away if he didn't win the match with Mr. Blaze," Martin pointed out.

Jennifer's jaw dropped and she gripped her knees. "You're wrong."

Martin chuckled. "I'm so sorry, my dear."

He closed the back doors. "Alright. Take this baby away," he hollered to Hag. Tommy hopped out of the passenger's side and let Hag replace him. As soon as the truck started moving down the street, loud noises erupted from across the road. Martin twirled his cane to prepare for whatever was coming. The noises were of people crying out in pain as something was hitting them all. But it didn't sound like anything the Ghost Rider would unleash. No. It sounded like a plasma gun.

Under the lights outside from a bakery, Martin spotted an Asian woman dressed in a S.H.I.E.L.D agent's uniform. Her eyes squinted when she spotted Martin's gaze on her.

"Go. Get out of here," Martin said to Tommy. Without questioning him, Tommy ran off. The agent started walking briskly towards Martin with her arm outstretched aiming her plasma gun at him. She fired off several rounds without stopping in her tracks, all of which Martin deflected away by spinning his cane. Finally, she got up close to him and spun a kick at his neck, which Martin narrowly avoided by jerking his head back. To get back at his opponent, he clung onto his cane with both hands and let both of his feet fly against May's chest while sailing in a circle around the cane.

While she's still stunned, Martin seized the opportunity to strike her across several areas of her body and then trip her onto the concrete. With the bottom end of the cane hovering above her, Martin stabbed downward to impale her, but May rolled to the side just in time. Martin's cane struck the road with a loud booming sound. With a animal-like snarl, Martin attempted to impale May a couple more times, but May managed to avoid every stab just in time. Using both her legs, May kicked up against Martin's stomach, finally gaining the upper hand to get back up and reengage. She then proceeded to flip back up without using her hands.

May lashed out at Martin with a feral cry and caught her enemy off guard by accomplishing two fearsome strikes across his face with her fists, each strike coming from a different hand. She grabbed Martin's head and pulled it down to slam it against the back of a parked car, then shoved his whole body away. Blood was streaming from Martin's nose now and a vicious light tore through his eyes with a vengeance. When he lashed out at her to get her with his cane again, May removed something from under her belt, which turned out to be a long staff with both of its ends glowing a blinding sapphire. She silently smirked before striking out at Martin with it.

The two dueled their way onto the sidewalk, swinging in every direction they could possibly try to harm the other. One end of May's staff finally found its mark square in Martin's chest which sent electric currents exploding across his body. To even May's surprise, something exploded behind Martin's eyes and soaked May's face in blood and gore. Martin's eyes were nonexistent now and it was a gore-spattered mess where they used to be.

Martin sank to his knees, too shocked to speak. The sensation he had felt in his head as the chips that allowed him to hypnotize people had been fried and had exploded. His vision was completely wiped and he saw nothing but endless black. He could feel massive amounts of blood coursing down his cheeks as they poured from his sockets.

"You're—you're not going to kill me," he choked. "That's not how S.H.I.E.L.D works."

"No, but you're worthless to S.H.I.E.L.D. You're going to a hospital, and then you're going to be in prison, for a very long time," May replied. As the Ghost Rider, Johnny Blaze had the ability to use the memories of his encounters with guilty people in the past and trace the whereabouts of those guilty people and find out their locations. Hag was no exception.

" _That police car is still behind us_ ," Zarathos pointed out.

 _It's not our concern right now_.

 _"It is if you want to keep your identity secret."_

 _I don't think it_ is _a secret anymore._

The black truck that Hag was in now was dead ahead. It was trying to speed up to outrun the Ghost Rider, but the Rider was faster. Hell Cycle was going at an unnatural speed now. All Blaze could see surrounding him was fire, and the truck was within the dead center of his vision.

He couldn't use his chain to flip the truck over. Jennifer might not survive the fall. But what was his goal exactly? To save Jennifer, or kill the ones who kidnapped her in the first place?

As the Ghost Rider, did Blaze have the ability to achieve both goals?

" _I know what you're thinking_. _How do you suppose you'll achieve both things_?"

 _You ask_ me _._ You're _the one who gives me all this power_.

" _And I am very tempted to take it all away_."

 _Like you're actually capable of that_. _You're nothing without this power but a mindless voice demanding that someone else do all the work_ for _you_.

There was a moment where Zarathos didn't respond, then:

" _You're actually not wrong_. _Well then_ , _let's do what I can do_."

The Ghost Rider unleashed its chain at the truck and one end wrapped itself around the handle that pulled the back of the truck open. Wrenching upwards, the Rider managed to yank the back open, revealing Jennifer curled up inside. She screamed at the sight of Ghost Rider of course, with eyes almost as big as unhatched eggs.

" _Aaah, I love the sound of people screaming_."

 _Quiet._

The Ghost Rider pointed a bony finger at Jennifer. " _Innocent_ ," it bellowed.

An urgent frowned ruffled Jennifer's expression and her hands parted from her face as she struggled to make sense of what was going on.

 _Come on_ , _try to walk on the chain_.

" _Come_ ," the Rider said.

Jennifer, trembling along with the truck, struggled to her feet and started to slowly make her way towards the chain that was waiting to be her bridge to Hell Cycle.

" _The chain_. _It will keep you up_ ," the Rider explained.

Jennifer looked down and stepped forward onto the chain. She raised her arms to stay steady while putting one foot in front of the other. As she walked across the chain like it was a tightrope in a circus.**

*Behind Ghost Rider, Frank was watching the whole rescue unfold.

 _This is unbelievable_.

He spoke through his radio again. "Coulson, there's something you should know."

"What's going on out there, Frank?" Coulson asked.

"It's the Ghost Rider. He's—saving a woman from the back of a truck."

There's a brief pause and for a moment, Frank wondered if the connection had somehow been lost.

Then: "You mind running me by that again?"**

*" _This isn't what you wanted, Johnny. You wanted vengeance_ , _not the power to save people_."

 _What's the point of this power if I can't choose how to use it?_

 _"You were never granted that freedom_."

Everyone _has the freedom to choose_.

Blaze could feel something rising in him that he rarely ever felt anymore. Hope. Hope that he finally had the upper hand over his inner demon and he would finally be able to actually save someone, not just kill the people who wronged the people that needed saving.

Then, the fire cradling the chain winked out and the chain went limp, dumping Jennifer onto the street.

Then Hell Cycle ran over her body.

 _NO!_

The only sound Blaze could hear within his eardrums was the wild, unhinged sound of Zarathos laughing.**

"Oh—oh my go—," Frank stuttered. He slammed his foot on the brakes and barged out of his car. He ran towards the broken body of the woman on the street with his phone already in his hands to call for an ambulance. By the time he got to the woman's side, he could see that the woman would very likely die before an ambulance would even get there.

 _Why did he do that? Why did Ghost Rider_ do that?**

*The inside of Blaze's mind felt like it was tearing at the seams so fast Blaze could barely keep up. He found himself laughing alongside Zarathos, until it was all he could hear. Two insane demons laughing in the pit of night. His chain was resurrected back to life by fire sprouting up and embracing it like a long-lost lover. Everything that had been plaguing Blaze's mind all night was all replaced with one singular focus. The goal to kill Hag and whoever else was with her in the truck.

The motorcycle increased its speed on its own even more until it was riding right alongside Hag and her companion. The Rider looked in at the guilty passenger who stared back at him with eyes that stank of fear.

 _Good_.

The man hoisted up a large machine gun and emptied an entire clip at the Rider. None of the bullets affected the Rider or Hell Cycle in any way. As soon as the firing stopped, the Rider jerked to the left and rammed Hell Cycle into the side of the truck. The impact was so intense that Hag lost control and swerved left and right. She fought to regain control, but the Rider slammed into the truck's side again, this time with the intention of completely running it off the road. This time it did end up off the road, and at this point, all of them were beyond the city limits now in the middle of nowhere. The truck slowed to a stop, the side where Ghost Rider had rammed into it was on fire. The Rider parked its motorcycle on the side of the road and began striding towards the truck.

 _I'm going to end this_.

It got to the passenger's side and snapped the door clean off. Blaze reached in and yanked Seth out. Ignoring the man's pleas for mercy, he grabbed him by the head with both hands and ripped him down the middle in half. Hag stumbled out of the truck, looking on at the scene in horror. Her mouth spewed vomit all over her feet.

"Please! Please don't kill me!" She pleaded.

Ghost Rider walked up to her, towering over her and brightening her face with the light from the fire dancing over his head.

" _Guilty_ ," the Rider said.

Then, just as it grabbed Hag, something made Blaze stop.

Something like a faint, small heartbeat could be heard. There was something else. Or some _one_ else.

If Blaze wasn't in the form of Ghost Rider, his jaw would have dropped. He realized that Hag was pregnant. There was the beginning of an innocent soul growing within the body of a guilty one.

What was he supposed to do?

" _What are you waiting for_?"

 _You know why_.

" _She's guilty_!"

 _Not the child_.

" _The child isn't whole yet. It won't feel any pain_."

 _Its soul is already there_. _You can feel it._

 _"Kill her! Forget the child! It won't feel any pain!"_

Hag stared up at Ghost Rider with fear and grief lingering in her eyes but also confusion at why the Rider hadn't done anything up to this point. As a last-ditch effort, she summoned a purple ball of energy from her palm and used it to blast Ghost Rider out of her grip. The Rider landed on its back, acting stunned. Hag ran while she still had the chance. The Rider stayed where it was unmoving, staring up through its empty eye sockets at the stars in the sky.

There was silence at first. Then, the sound of an unsettling chuckle which turned into an uncontrollable giggle and then passed into uncontrollable laughter. Ghost Rider's whole form began shifting and reshaping until Johnny Blaze had his body back. Blaze was still laughing, and tears of relief streamed down his eyes.

 _I can beat you_. _I can actually make my own decisions_.

Blaze's relief was cut too short however, when Flagg's car pulled up alongside the road. Flagg himself stepped out and trotted down to meet up with Blaze. Blaze didn't move. There was no point to.

Flagg's face was scarlet and his eyes gave away the fact that he had been crying a storm out.

"Hey, asshole. We need to talk," he said.

Blaze let loose a thin breath, blowing the long strands of hair in front of his eyes away.


	8. Chapter 8

A bent figure trailed into a torchlit room, dragging himself across the floor on his knees. He wore a rotten, torn soldier's uniform, most of which hung like entrails down his back. But what was more disturbing about the person's appearance was that he had a clean, red skull for a head with no ears or nose. Hot tears were streaming down his hard cheeks and he snarled and gnashed his teeth in a fierce misery no one on earth had ever seen before.

The Red Skull finally bowed his head and hit his hands on the floor. "My lord, the one you have been waiting to have, is on the verge of death." In Hell, everyone served the Prince of Lies himself. Mephisto. A tall, imposing being whose appearance was darker than the realm around him. He stood gazing out with his glowing white eyes through the window, both hands clasped behind his back. His skin was the color of fresh blood, and his black hair dangled far past his shoulders. His black cloak shrouded him so that he looked more like a shadow in a wall.

Mephisto tilted his head as he studied the world outside. A river of lava jaded with small islands, all of which contained inhabitants of lost souls that failed to make it to a better world, whether it was because of their lives on earth, or because Mephisto had managed to snag them and drag them in.

Mephisto's eyes averted from the window and he turned, taking his cape around with him to snake around his legs.

When he spoke, his lips didn't move. "I can feel it. Her soul is slowly crawling out of her flesh. It calls and I will soon beckon in return."

The Red Skull silently nodded and his whole body shook in waves and he started giggling to himself.

"And what of Mister Stane?" Mephisto asked.

"He—he has willingly submitted to this place, my lord."

"Excellent. He will do incredible things under me. Incredible things."

Mephisto strode past the Red Skull, who couldn't stop laughing in his crouched position, and walked into the center of a room shaped like a perfect circle, giving himself the space he needed. With one hand up and two fingers and a thumb stuck out, then the other hand in the same position in front of the first, Mephisto moved the second hand around in a circle, creating a sparkling window that allowed him to see into something on earth.

He saw the woman in the hospital bed stuck full of IVs and a breathing mask over her mouth. She was cut up with one eye swollen shut.

"Jennifer Glatzer," Mephisto bellowed. His lips curved into an insidious grin and his eyes sparkled in delight.

"Come home to me, my dear. Come home."**

*"Tell me everything. _Now_ ," Flagg said. His arms were folded and if looks could kill, Johnny Blaze would surely be dead. For the second time.

Blaze responded by taking a swig of beer from his flask. His eye contact went everywhere except his friend. How could he keep his eye contact on Flagg when he was this pissed with him?

They were sitting in Flagg's camper a safe distance away from all the chaos in the city as S.H.I.E.L.D tried to detain the situation and clean up the mess left behind.

"Hey, I'm over here. Look at me," Flagg snapped.

Blaze's eyes darted over to him. At this point, he half-expected Zarathos to say something, but he didn't. Blaze never thought he would feel this way, but he really wished that Zarathos had at least _something_ to say. Anything that could distract him from the situation he was in. But he was also being irresponsible by being silent, and he would lose Flagg as a friend a lot quicker that way than he is now.

"So, cool stuff huh?" Blaze asked.

Flagg raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"I mean, come on. Your best friend and foster brother can turn into a frickin' skeleton dude with a flaming head. That's pretty badass, wouldn't you say?"

Flagg's arms dropped to his sides. "Un-believable. This is what you're going to do? You're not going to take responsibility for _any of this_?"

Blaze frowned. "Responsibility for what? What have _I_ done that was wrong?"

Flagg took a dangerous step forward so that his face was taking up more of Blaze's vision. "Jennifer is in the ER now with multiple broken bones and I'm in danger of losing my job in the carnival because of you!"

"Oh because that's all actually my fault," Blaze sneered sarcastically.

"You're saying none of those displays are? You gonna come up with some stupid excuse like 'the Devil made me do it'?"

"Well, yeah. Actually, yes."

Blaze wasn't expecting Flagg to strike him across the face with an open palm next. The impact was enough for Blaze's face to jerk to the side. There was blood in the wad he spit.

"Let me tell you something now," Flagg said. "I'm taking a stupid, terrible risk by being near you knowing what you're capable of, _and_ I should be at the hospital with Jennifer. But I want to know the truth. What. The hell. Is going on?"

Blaze sighed and sank down on the floor defeated. He swept large strands of hair from his eyes and tucked them behind his ear.

"I really wanted to tell you. Flagg, I—." Tears welled up in Blaze's eyes. "I really, really wanted to tell you about all of this."

Flagg knelt down so that he could look into Blaze's eyes. His voice softened just a little bit. "Then why didn't you?"

 _How to start_?

" _At the beginning_."

Blaze was surprised that Zarathos was pitching in. Why did he care about this?

"There's—something inside of me that makes me turn into that—that thing. Most of the time, I don't have any control over it."

"So what, you're like the Hulk now or something?"

"Not really. This isn't because of—science."

Flagg frowned, appearing more skeptical. Blaze wasn't surprised one bit.

"I'll tell you everything. I don't know if you'll understand all of it."

Flagg sat down across from Blaze with his legs crossed. "Try me. This is your chance to prove me wrong about you.

 _Yes_. _The_ last _chance_.**

 **Years Ago…**

* At the time Johnny Blaze's mother Naomi left with his other younger siblings, Blaze didn't understand why, except for the fact that his mother was clearly scared about something. It wasn't anything that Blaze's father Barton had done, it was something else.

"I'm doing this for your own good. For yours and your father's," Naomi said with her hands on Blaze's shoulders. Blaze's hair was a greasy mess and his clothes were stained and caked with dirt.

"Will I see you again?" He asked.

Naomi's sapphire eyes drooped and her lips quivered. "Not in this life, my love. Not unless you somehow find me, but you can't. I will only end up hurting you."

An idea seemed to strike Naomi. She opened the passenger side door of her and leaned in to grab something. In her hands were a couple of albums by Bon Jovi, one of her favorite artists, and one that was slowly becoming a favorite of Blaze's.

"Here, take these. Listen to them. You can remember me while you do."

Blaze took the albums but it didn't really make him feel any more at peace. Blaze didn't say anything. His gaze stayed down on the dirt below him, and he couldn't look his mother in the eye even when he wanted to. Why couldn't his body obey him?

"Johnny, look at me," Naomi said.

Blaze didn't look up.

"Johnny, please."

Nothing. Then finally, Blaze dropped the Bon Jovi albums on the ground, turned around, and ran. He ignored Naomi's calls for him to come back. He was a coward. He knew that. He would always regret not staying to properly say goodbye to his mother.

Johnny had his first alcoholic beverage that following night. Though he had never been a fan of drinking before then, this time he had found himself a reason to. One glass of hard bourbon dumped his mind into a funk that gave him a lethal mix of emotions. Anger, fear, hopelessness, the urge to die. Little did he know that that urge would one day be satisfied, though not in the way he had hoped.

On the same night after his time drinking, Johnny walked into what used to be his mother's room. Naomi had never agreed to the idea of her and Blaze's father Barton sleeping together in the same room. They had obviously dedicated special time together in order to have kids, but Naomi preferred having her own bedroom. Something about having 'personal space' and the need to be completely alone in order to be 'reenergized'. On top of that, while Barton was a very disorganized person and tended to have piles of his own clothes on the floor, everything in Naomi's room was organized to the letter. Family photos were lined up on top of the dresser in the order that they were taken, and pictures of Blaze and his siblings were on the wall lined up in the order that they were born. She still had her old, neglected pairs of shoes sitting at the foot of her bed, from smallest to largest. Framed on the wall above her bed next to a wedding photo of her and Barton was a Captain America comic book signed by the flag waver himself and given to her by her father who had served in World War II. It was the only source of memorabilia of her father that she had been able to salvage, and she had left it behind. For Blaze? He wasn't sure.

Blaze couldn't stand the thought of lingering in his mother's room any longer. There was an eerie air about it that caused him to shiver, but it wasn't because his mother was gone now. Somehow, there was something about it that always gave him the creeps, even when Naomi still lived with him. As he turned to leave, he heard a sound like a heartbeat. He wondered if it was his own, but it wasn't. It was as if he was listening to a heartbeat through a stethoscope, it was that loud.

But it was coming from somewhere specific in the room too. He peered over at the dresser and his own heart rate escalated. The sound of the heartbeat was—calling to him. He approached the dresser cautiously, as if something was going to jump out of one of the drawers at him. Finally, he opened the bottom drawer to find stacks of folded hand towels there. He was curious why his mother kept a bunch of towels in a dresser drawer to begin with, but they weren't what was making the noise. He began removing them until finally, he found something at the bottom on one side. It was a large, dark book. On the cover was spelled one word:

 _Darkhold_.**

 **Present Day**

* "So, this book that you found. What is it written by some cult or something?" Flagg asked.

"Something worse. It wasn't written by any mortal man," Blaze explained.

Flagg blew a long breath. "Normally I wouldn't believe this, but—there have been reported sightings of weird stuff going on from space. Scientists are afraid that that could directly affect us some day."

"I don't know if those things are connected, but I do know one thing that's for certain," Blaze said.

"Go on."

"I know you're not a religious person, but there's one thing I can confirm is true. Demons are real."

"How do you know this?" Flagg asked.

"I've been to hell and back. Literally."

"You mean—like all the fire and brimstone and crap?"

"Yeah. It's pretty much exactly what you would imagine it to be."

"What happened there?" Flagg asked.

"I'll get there. First I have to tell you about the time my dad was shot."**

 **Years Ago…**

* The bullet smashed into the side of Barton's stomach and he fell flat onto his back. Blood pooled underneath him.**

 **Present Day**

* "Wait. I thought your dad was killed in a stunt accident," Flagg pointed out.

"He was. But he could've died after getting shot. He would've," Blaze replied.

"What do you mean?"**

 **Years Ago…**

* "Dad!" Blaze screamed as he knelt down beside Barton. The man with the gun that had shot him spun around to run away, his dark emerald jacket trailing behind him. Blaze was all alone in the alley with his father, the last of his family he had left. Without him, he wouldn't have anywhere to go. He didn't know of anyone that would take him in anyway.

Barton coughed up blood and stared up at his son with wide, wide eyes. "Johnny…"

"Don't talk. I'll call for help," Blaze urged. He reached into his pocket to grab his cell phone, and then realized something. He remembered what he had read in that mysterious book he found in his mother's room. The Darkhold was a book that contained secrets. Secrets that weren't clear to him at first, but had slowly formed for him to read them. He knew that the book was magic already, that much he was certain about. But could he actually _use_ that magic? Could he heal his father without needing modern medicine or doctors?

Before giving it a second thought, Blaze began speaking to himself, which came out as something that wasn't English, or any known language for that matter. The way he spoke was more like chanting and his eyes rolled back as he thrusted his head up at the sky.

Tears streamed down his cheeks and he spread his arms out wide in a trembling embrace.

"Forgive me," he said to no one in particular. Maybe it was to his father. Maybe it was to God Himself. Even Blaze wasn't sure.

" _What is it_ , _child_? _What is it that you desire_?"

Blaze gasped at hearing the voice and his arms slightly drooped but stayed spread.

"Who is this?" He asked.

" _The one you have summoned_. _What is it that you desire_?"

Blaze looked down at Barton's body. Barton was out cold but his heart was still beating. Barely.

"My dad. He's dying. I want him to be healed. I don't want him to die," Blaze said.

There was a crash of thunder. Then:

" _Calm yourself_ , _child_. _Your wish will be granted_. _But it comes at a price_."

"Oh, come on," Blaze whined. "Why does this stuff always have to have a condition?"

Suddenly, within a flash of lighting, Blaze saw a black, tall figure towering over him and his father. The figure held a long scarlet sword with the tip of the blade hovering over Barton's chest.

"The things that are granted to you by the ones above!" The figure shrieked.

Blaze threw his hands over his father as if it would protect him. "No! Don't! I'll do whatever you ask. Just don't kill my father."

"Then you will let me have your soul," the figure bellowed.

"My—my soul?"

"It is the only way that you can save your father. A soul for a soul. A fair trade."

Blaze couldn't think straight. He could see his mother Naomi in his head as well as the faces of his other siblings, but they were blurrier now. He couldn't remember them as well as he used to anymore. He didn't want the same thing to happen to the memories of his father.

Blaze stood up. He tried to focus his vision on the cloaked figure standing on the other side of his father's body, but it was hard. It was as if the figure was blurry itself, never taking any clear form.

"Who are you?" Blaze asked.

"Does that matter?"

Blaze gulped and shook his head. "Just do what you have to do."

Before Blaze could move, the sword in the figure's hand flashed and Blaze felt it plunge through his chest. Blood fountained out of his mouth and everything went black.**

*When Blaze woke up, he screamed at the sharp pain spiking up his back and over his head. He couldn't feel his hair at all and his screams carried no sound. He scrambled up on his feet and gasped when he took in his surroundings. He was in the middle of a vast lake of lava, standing atop an island of black ash. The sky was coated in black and red clouds, blocking out any sunlight or blue. There didn't appear to be any end to the lake, and the hopeless feeling of being trapped swarmed through Blaze like a plague of locusts.

When he turned around behind him, he saw the same dark figure he had seen earlier. Where was his father? Was he okay?

The look of the figure was more defined this time, with long black hair past his shoulders and gleaming pale eyes.

"Where the hell am I?" Blaze asked.

The figure raised his hand. "You have surrendered your life to me in exchange for the preservation of your father's life. Now you must prove that I have no reason to regret this decision."

Blaze fidgeted when he heard the ground around him break apart, revealing shadowy, magma bodies climbing through the surface armed with chains. Their eyes were like black holes, and their mouths were constantly screaming and crying in a kind of torment that Blaze couldn't even imagine experiencing. The shadows surrounded Blaze in a perfect circle.

The sight of them sparked a fierce anger in Blaze that surprised himself. What was it about these beings that caused this untamed rage to stir up within him?

His gaze fell on the chain that one of the shadows held in one hand.

"Can _I_ have one?" Blaze asked.

 _What_?

That wasn't Blaze's voice. It was something else. Something far more sinister.

Blaze felt something metal materialize into his hand until he was holding a long, black chain. And it was on fire.**

 **Present Day**

* Flagg held both of his hands against the back of his head as he paced back and forth.

"So, hell. It's really real?"

Blaze flashed a defeated smirk. "Could any other place possibly be capable of turning me into what I can turn into?"

Flagg sank into a sitting position crossing his legs again and shook his head.

"You weren't in control."**

 **Years Ago…**

* " _All of you_! _Guilty_!" Blaze's body screamed.

His eyes exploded and fire flared out, swallowing up his entire head. It shredded and melted away his face and spread down through his neck until nothing was left but a hollow, feral-looking skull. The shadows stepped back in fear at the sight of Mephisto's new warrior. The were unable to use their own chains against him before the Ghost Rider lashed his chain out and wrapped it around the waist of one of them. Yanking his wrist back, the chain tore the shadow into two pieces. With a few brief seconds of confidence, the other shadows charged at the Rider, whipping their chains over their heads to prepare to take him down. One chain found its way around the Rider's wrist and another took care of the other, spreading the Rider's arms wide to keep him restrained.

 _EEEEEEEEEEEEEEE_.

Ghost Rider screamed in a rage and pulled his arms forward to try and wrench the chains out of his enemies' grips, but they held on hard.

The shadows pulled to attempt to yank the Rider's arms out of their sockets, but the Rider fought back by summoning a flash of white light to blind them. Bewildered by the sudden light, the shadows loosened their grips, giving the Rider the chance to pull as hard as he could to rip the chains away.

He twirled both of them and lashed them out around the shadows' necks. With an animalistic cry, he severed both of their heads from their transparent bodies.

With the rest that came at him, the Ghost Rider used his chain, changing it into different forms to stab, slice, decapitate, and tear apart. The bodies were still screaming as they fell.

Finally, the shadows were all swept away in an ashy wind, leaving the Ghost Rider alone with Mephisto.

"Excellent. _Excellent_ ," Mephisto said with a cackle. The Rider whirled around to face him.

"You _are_ the warrior I intended for you to be. Go now. You will serve as a spirit of vengeance on earth as—the Ghost Rider."

"You did this to me. _You did this to me_!" The Rider howled in Blaze's voice.

The Rider howled and launched himself at Mephisto holding the middle of his chain with two hands. The chain snapped apart into two halves, forming into short, dagger-like blades. Mephisto managed to parry the Rider's attack with his own long sword, with a clash so powerful, the ash exploded up into the air around them.

The Rider snarled and spat as he pushed against Mephisto with all his might to overtake him. Mephisto was quick however, and he pushed back, causing the Rider to stumble and fall to its knees.

"Nice try, Zarathos. You will never defeat me," he said. Before the Rider could get back up, Mephisto popped him on the forehead with two long, bony fingers. The Ghost Rider fell onto its back, unconscious.**

 **Present Day**

* "Then I woke up back on earth. In the same alley where my dad was shot, except there was one difference. I was the one lying on the ground, and my dad was the one watching over me," Blaze said.

"Was your dad still hurt?" Flagg asked.

It took a moment for Blaze to respond. His thoughts were paused and he had to struggle through the fog in his mind thanks to his beer. "No. Any evidence that he had been shot was gone on his body. No blood, no scar. Nothing."

"This doesn't make sense. What was the point of making the deal if your dad was just going to die anyway a week later?" Flagg asked.

"You're right. It doesn't make sense. It doesn't make any frickin' sense at all, but that's what happened. I made a terrible mistake and I was cheated over it in the end."

"Big time. Your dad died for real during that stunt, and you couldn't do anything about that."

Blaze shook his head as he thought back to that. Being beside his father who was broken and bleeding again after just one week was enough to send him flying out of the carnival with his skin peeling away to reveal the monster beneath him. Many lives had been lost that night as Blaze took all his anger out on people who were guilty of wrongdoing. People whose bodies were going to be completely erased from existence. That was when he realized what he was meant to do as the Ghost Rider. He was a vigilante. Not a hero.

"It could be worse you know," Flagg said.

"Tell me, Flagg. Tell me what could _possibly_ worse then being dead but staying alive thanks to a bloodthirsty demon that turns me into a raging skeleton monster with a frickin' fiery chain," Blaze lamented.

"Okay, when you put it that way it sounds pretty messed up, but listen. Your powers are used against only people who are bad, right?" Flagg asked.

"That's a very narrow way of looking at it, but yes."

"So it could be worse then. You could be forced to just murder a bunch of innocent people for personal gain," Flagg pointed out.

"Yes, but this is still not right! Don't you understand? I don't go out and do this crap and then feel good about myself afterwards. People don't see the image of the Ghost Rider as a hero, they see it as a—a monster. Something to be feared, not admired. People like Captain America got off better than I did. This isn't what I wanted to be," Blaze said.

A tear slipped through Flagg's eye. "I'm sorry. Look man, I—I didn't know, okay? And I understand why you didn't tell me. This is just—a lot to take in, and I'm trying so _frickin'_ hard to look at the positives about it."

Blaze's voice softened and his shoulders welt. "Well, you were always pretty good about that. I remember when you were telling me all the great things about your dad after I lost mine."

A half-hearted smile flinched through Flagg's features. "I wish I believed I was being honest about all those things I said."

"Sometimes we say what we have to, in order for someone that means something to us to look better in our eyes," Blaze said.

"So what are you going to do now? Now that the whole carnival knows who you are?" Flagg asked.

Blaze shrugged. "I honestly have no clue. Maybe write a comic book series and start a fan club."

Flagg grinned. "See? You're looking at the positives."

"Don't expect that too often," Blaze warned.

"From you? Never," Flagg said. He got up and started to head towards the door.

"Wait. So you're not mad at me? You don't feel the slightest concerned about being around me?" Blaze asked.

Flagg's eyes turned sad. "You didn't know the outcome of the situation. You were wrong to go trying out some cult's spells, but you didn't know something like that was going to happen. We make really stupid mistakes sometimes that we end up having to live with."

Flagg pointed at himself as he said this.

"We'll talk about your side later. You should go check on Jennifer," Blaze said.

"I'm just afraid that she won't want to see me," Flagg admitted.

"She doesn't know anything yet. Not yet."

"Maybe it's best if she never did."

" _You're_ the boyfriend, not me," Blaze reminded him.

"Right," Flagg said. He stopped short before leaving.

"Oh, and S.H.I.E.L.D knows who you are, but they entrusted me to talk to you. Apparently they believe that you're not dangerous to people who are _innocent_ at least, but they'll ask me for answers."

"I'll take care of that myself."

"You're not going to do anything stupid are you?"

Blaze half-smiled. "Nothing you should be concerned about."

Flagg then left, and Blaze remained sitting on Flagg's couch trying to keep the fragments of his mind pieced together. His friend's sympathy surprised him, but at the same time it made sense. Both of them had made mistakes that cost them something. How could one person judge the other if that person is guilty too?

When Blaze was sure that he was alone, he broke down and sobbed into his hands.**

* _Bright flashing lights_. _Hollering voices_. _Needles_. _Needles in the arm_. _Blood_. _An arm clinging on to gory entrails._

 _Then the white light consumed everything and there was darkness_.

Jennifer's eyes opened and blinked twice to focus. There was lava, lots of it. Black, smoking ash made up the ground beneath her.

 _Where am I? What is this?!_

"Hello, Jennifer," a booming voice said behind her.

Jennifer spun around to face a figure bathed in blood-red. His glowing white eyes pierced her throat like a knife.

"I want to make a deal with you. Will you hear it?" The figure asked.

Jennifer wanted to cry but no tears came. Her legs were shaking so hard she had to sit down. In this place, she felt naked and completely vulnerable. Feelings of guilt, sorrow, and fear strangled her mind, and she felt like her flesh was peeling away, threatening to reduce her to bones.

"I will do whatever you want," she cried. "Just _please_. Make the pain stop," she begged.

Mephisto grinned and he held out his hand for Jennifer to take. It was the only option that resided in Jennifer's mind. She couldn't remember anything that had come before nor did she have a clue what was still to come. Her hand fell into Mephisto's, and the very presence of this evil visitor forced her mind to submit.

"What do you want of me?" She asked.

"Your soul."


	9. Chapter 9

Blaze sat on a bench a decent distance away from the church where Jennifer's funeral was being held. Flagg understood why he couldn't go in there and join them. How could he possibly show his face to anyone, now that everyone knew what he was capable of?

Fortunately for himself, S.H.I.E.L.D had a sent clear message to everyone in Santa Fe that no one could lay a hand on him. Not that that didn't prevent all kinds of incidents anyway. Several gangs had tried to take down Blaze while he wasn't in the form of Ghost Rider, and all of them ended up in the hospital with concussions and shattered bones, all of which Blaze had done to them without even transforming.

 _You didn't kill Jennifer_. He _did_.

Zarathos didn't come up with another sniveling comeback this time. In fact, he had been quieter more lately than usual. Blaze liked to think that this was because he actually felt guilty for what had happened, but that was being too hopeful. Too hopeful for a hopeless demon like him. Blaze cursed himself for not knowing better.

Finally, the doors of the church opened and everyone that had attended the funeral started pouring out. Most of them didn't talk, and thankfully, most of them didn't look in Blaze's direction. From the crowd, Flagg broke off and started heading straight towards him. Blaze took a draw from his cigarette and bowed his head. He didn't know what to expect. Flagg didn't lash out at him after he told him his whole 'origin story', but maybe time had given him the thoughts that could potentially kill the entire friendship. Blaze wouldn't blame him at all if it comes to that.

He felt the bench creek under the weight of Flagg sitting next to him. He heard his friend let loose a heavy sigh.

Flagg was silent for a moment before speaking. "I guess we're even now."

Blaze didn't look up. A thin trail of smoke emanated from his cigarette. "How so?"

"Your girlfriend died. My girlfriend died."

Blaze smirked. "I don't think that's something anyone would ever want to be even with."

Flagg nodded. "Yeah."

The air was silent again, and Blaze thought he could hear Flagg sniffling, but he kept his head down. He didn't want to look up. He didn't want to see what Flagg looked like now.

"So what now?" Flagg asked.

Blaze shook his head. "I don't know." He heard Flagg adjust himself on the bench.

"Do you need some time to yourself?" Flagg asked.

"Yeah. If it's not too much trouble."

"What if S.H.I.E.L.D actually decides to come after you?"

"I'll be ready for them."

Blaze finally looked up to watch his friend leave. He was then the only one in the area. This was his opportunity to go into the church. Even though Zarathos wasn't saying much, he still wanted blessed silence, and the church was where he was going to get it.

He walked through the front doors and saw that he wasn't the only one in the sanctuary. A priest was relighting a few candles at the altar. He wasn't a balding old man like Blaze would expect him to be. He looked fairly young and wore a vague smile as he went about his business. He didn't even turn to look at Blaze when he stepped in.

"Have you come to confess?" He asked as Blaze walked closer to him.

"I don't know," Blaze replied. It was an honest answer. He didn't know why exactly he was in the church. He just wanted peace.

"Well, don't stress. I already know everything you've done," the priest said.

Blaze frowned and his shoulders tensed as though he was expecting to get hit by something. The priest reached into the pocket of his robe and pulled out a badge with an all-too familiar symbol on it.

S.H.I.E.L.D.

"Johnny Blaze. I'm Agent Phil Coulson of S.H.I.E.L.D. I want to talk to you," he said. Blaze sat down in the front row and gazed down at the floor.

"That's it? This is usually the part when you try to run away or fight me and I have to tackle you down," Coulson said.

"I can't fight you. At least not as—the other guy," Blaze said.

Coulson tilted his head. "Wait a minute. Does it have something to do with this place?"

"Yeah. It's the Lord's house."

"Ah, that makes sense now. Then you're willing to listen to me?" Coulson asked.

"What if I don't want to stay?" Blaze asked.

"Then I can have Detective Frank McGee take you in," Coulson said. As if on queue, Frank himself walked down the aisle with his large arms folded.

"You gave me quite the investigation, Mr. Blaze," he said.

"Detective McGee here was the one who believed that this place would be the safest place to meet you. He did a little bit of digging, so there's nothing you can do that will surprise us," Coulson said.

"I don't understand," Blaze replied, "how can you know everything I'm capable of? That's impossible," Blaze said.

"You're not the only one with the ability to turn into a flaming skull guy," Coulson said.

"I'm late. I'm late aren't I?" Someone interjected in the back of the room. Blaze looked to see another man strolling down the aisle as if he owned the building. His jet black hair looked like it had too much product in it and he had odd facial hair.

"This wasn't on my schedule," the man remarked.

Blaze couldn't believe who was walking towards him.

"Tony Stark?" He asked.

Tony flashed a smile. "It's okay. You'll get over it. Happens to everybody."

Blaze looked back at Coulson and pointed at Stark. "What's he doing here?"

"He came here to investigate black market dealings going on that involved selling his father's own tech, but I asked him to join us for our chat."

Tony held up a finger and wagged it while his other hand tapped a few keys on a cell phone. "Willingly—it was willingly, Should point that out. Not out of the—goodness of my heart, or however you say it."

Tony plopped down next to Blaze and scooted a little further away so that their bodies couldn't touch. Blaze shook his head in wonder at the billionaire. He had heard a lot of stories that Tony was a snarky one, but for someone who had gone to hell in Afghanistan and back, he didn't seem the least bit fettered by anything, nor did he seem to care about the people around him.

"I don't really like him," Blaze said to Coulson.

"Yeah, you get used to it. But, you can't ignore what he went through."

"The asshole looks like he's doing pretty good for himself."

"Maybe. But he just revealed his secret identity to the whole world. That might spell consequences for him."

Tony didn't react to any of their conversation. He continued tapping away at his phone with his eyes glued to the screen. If Tony was guilty of anything that would make Zarathos want to take him out over, Blaze didn't even have the ability to know given where he was. It was refreshing for a change.

Frank McGee sat down on the opposite side of Blaze with a cigar in hand. He rested his arm behind Blaze's neck.

"Um, what's going on?" Blaze asked. Despite the awkwardness of the situation, Blaze somehow felt—comfortable with these people. It wasn't every day that someone was visited by the genius billionaire himself, and an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. Blaze had powers, but he never considered himself as being 'special' because of them.

"Mr. Blaze, we know everything about you. Anything we didn't find out ourselves Flagg told us. He didn't do that because he wanted to hand you over. He did it because he cares about you, and just because you have some supernatural thing inside you doesn't mean you're not still Jonathan Blaze," Coulson said.

Blaze's muscles tightened and he could feel his teeth grating up against each other. "You don't know anything. You all have always had it better."

Frank raised his hand. "Allow me to dispute that. I have abilities of my own, but they came at a great cost."

"As per usual," Tony said without looking up.

Blaze jumped when something suddenly changed in Frank's eyes. The pupils had been swallowed up in these yellow, blinding lights. Blaze shielded his own eyes with his arms and he thought he could hear the whisper of a scream inside his head. The lights were overpowering.

"When I first discovered this power, among others inside my head, the lights in my eyes were the brightest they could possibly be. They were so powerful and so sharp, that they drilled through my wife's own eyes and burned a hole through her brain. Not a day goes by that I don't think about that day. My powers gave me the added ability of solving crimes and a deeper understanding of my investigations—but the lights killed my wife."

Blaze could almost imagine the trauma of seeing Frank's wife fall dead with a charred head. Almost.

"I couldn't control my powers at first. So I spent the first few weeks afterward with a blindfold around me until someone helped me control and balance my power. It was the director of S.H.I.E.L.D himself who helped me. He also let me go and continue my work as a detective, because he knew that I was responsible enough to use my power in a way that didn't hurt others."

Blaze turned to Tony, half-expecting him to say something about his own story. Tony looked up from his phone and frowned.

"Oh is it my turn? Yeah—hi, my name is Tony Stark, genius billionaire playboy philanthropist, and I got hit in the heart real good. I'm kept alive thanks to a blue, glowing thing."

Tony thumped the center of his chest where Blaze noticed for the first time a round blue light emanating through his Black Sabbath shirt.

"An arc reactor. Keeps the shrapnel in me from plunging right in there."

"Mr. Stark is being modest," Coulson said.

"No I'm not," Tony said.

"He was tortured by terrorists overseas and he had to make his own armored suit to escape. He lost his building companion while there," Coulson explained.

"What's the point of all this? Really?" Blaze asked. He could feel urgency tickling his throat and for the first time since he walked in, he wanted to get out.

"The point, Mr. Blaze, is that you're not just the only one with—abilities, you're also not the only one that has gone through something in the process. We all lost something important to us in the process of receiving something else."

"A pretty wife and a healthy heart can't be compared to someone's own entire soul," Blaze said.

"But they're all important to us nonetheless," Coulson pointed out. "If you want to know the truth, I think the fact that you're still alive even though you're technically dead is pretty frickin' awesome, but the way _you_ feel about it is up to you. An old friend told me once that you can do anything if you believe that you're a part of something greater."

Blaze didn't know how to respond. His eyes left Coulson and all he could do was stare blankly down.

"Which is why we're going to offer you a chance to fit in somewhere," Coulson said.

"Oh boy, here comes the catch," Tony said.

"What?" Blaze asked.

"It's called the Avengers Initiative, and—."

Blaze stood straight up and cut Coulson off. "Whoa, whoa, hold on. Wait a minute. Hold the train. I'm not joining some gifted club so that S.H.I.E.L.D can have me at their beck and call."

"Damn, they usually at least listen to everything first," Coulson admitted.

"You don't understand. The only reason why I haven't turned and lopped your head off yet is because we're in this church. Out there though is another story," Blaze said.

"You can't control who you kill while you're—the other guy?" Coulson asked.

Blaze shook his head but he thought back to the time not too long ago when he spared Hag's life while he was in Rider form. It happened once, and Blaze got lucky. He didn't know if it was an advantage that he would have by his side every time. He couldn't risk it.

"No. The thing inside me kills the ones he deems guilty. No ifs, ands, or buts."

"We can help you," Coulson said.

"No you can't," Blaze snapped. He clutched his head with both hands. "You guys are so dense."

Coulson frowned and stayed silent.

"Look, I appreciate your motivational speeches—."

"I've been known to do those," Coulson interjected.

"—And I appreciate the encouragement, but you always overlook the most important aspect of me. I'm a monster. Dozens upon dozens of souls out there can attest to that."

"You _have_ a monster, you're not a monster yourself," Frank pointed out.

Fresh tears swam inside Blaze's eyes.

 _You spared someone_. _You spared someone_.

"I don't blame you for what the Rider did inside of you, but you know that you can't always hide behind the whole 'the devil made me do it' excuse. The others before you learned that," Coulson said.

Blaze sat back down and put his head in his hands. Tears snaked out from between his fingers.

"Who are the others?"

"That doesn't matter right now. What matters is that we're not leaving you alone until you at least tell yourself that what the Rider has done is not your fault and that you _do_ have control over it. You just haven't discovered it yet," Coulson said.

 _I_ have _. At least I think so_.

Blaze didn't want to tell Coulson about that though, because he still didn't want to be a part of whatever team Coulson was trying to put together. Even if he were to somehow find peace with himself, he was meant to keep to himself. If an instance were to come up where he couldn't control the Rider's power, someone or more than one person within S.H.I.E.L.D or this thing called the Avengers would die at his hands.

"Alright. It's not my fault," Blaze said. He didn't feel completely sure of himself about that, but at least Coulson would be happy.

Half a smile slit across the agent's face. "Good. That's good."

"But you understand why I can't be part of your cosplay club," Blaze said.

"At least think about it. I'll be leaving soon—."

"I'll be leaving right away," Tony said.

"Your decision has no weight here, Mr. Stark," Coulson said.

Blaze stood up for the last time. "Don't hold your breath."

He turned around and began walking away. He shoved his hands in his pockets and felt the voice of the demon inside him growing louder and louder as he reached the double doors.

"We hope you'll stop beating yourself up, Mr. Blaze," Coulson called after him.

Blaze turned to face the three people that had come to talk to him. The offer to join S.H.I.E.L.D had muddled Coulson's intentions of encouraging Blaze a bit, but Blaze couldn't help but admit that he felt—lighter. Whether he truly believed it or not when he said that everything he had done as the Rider wasn't his fault, saying those words out loud had unclenched something in him that had been clenched for so long.

"Just know that we're here for you," Coulson glanced at Tony. "Maybe not him, but if you need me or Detective McGee, we're here to help you."

Blaze grunted and smirked but didn't say anything before walking out of the church.**

* _I'm gonna get in trouble for this_.

Flagg was in Blaze's garage, sorting through his friend's drawers looking for one thing in particular: the Darkhold.

How could the words of a book be enough to contain such remarkable power?

Truth be told, Flagg was pissed. He was angry at something that he couldn't see, because of what it did to his friend Blaze. The realization sent tears flowing down Flagg's cheeks, and he hammered his fist against the desk.

"Where are you?" He asked. His fist slammed the desk several more times.

" _Where are you_? _Where are you, you son of a bitch_!?" Flagg screamed.

This thing—this demon—whatever it was, had to pay. For Jennifer, for Blaze, and for everyone else whose lives it had mucked up.

"Screw you! Screw you!" Flagg screamed. He pointed both of his middle fingers up at the ceiling. He had no idea if anything he was doing got the demon's attention, but he didn't care. He leaped to his feet and kicked the desk over and over again until his foot started to ache.

Then one of the drawers flew open and fell to the floor with a sharp _thud_.

Flagg's heart leaped up his chest and landed back down like the chest drawer. With trembling legs, Flagg knelt back down and removed the stacks of papers inside the drawer until he saw it. The book.

It had the title of _Darkhold_ on the cover like any normal book. Something about the mere sight of it made Flagg's insides squirm like a host of worms struggling to get out of him. He felt like he was about to vomit.

 _Come on_. _It's just a stupid book_. _Maybe you can find something to help Blaze_.

Flagg reached for the book to open it.**

*To Blaze, Coulson and his pals said a lot of stuff to him that sounded like bullcrap, but there was something that kept sticking out to him. The fact that he had a way to control Zarathos's urges gave him hope that the spirit of vengeance inside him _can_ be controlled. It reminded him of a Scripture, which he flipped to in his pocket Bible.

It was 2 Corinthians 12:7. In the words of Paul it said that to prevent him from being arrogant, he had what he referred to as a 'thorn in his flesh' (or more relatable to Blaze, a 'messenger of Satan'). Though the Scriptures never specified what that thorn was, the message was clear to Blaze. Paul had a weakness, one that was even crippling at times, that was meant to keep him in line morally. Three times he had asked God for it to be taken away from him, and three times God turned down his request because his strength 'was made perfect in weakness'.

Blaze's thorn was the demon inside him, but that didn't mean that he had to be submissive to it. There was no way he knew of that could expel Zarathos from him, but that didn't mean he was doomed to fall under Zarathos's commands every single time. He wouldn't always succeed, as he was only human at the end of the day, but he could try.

When Blaze got up from the park bench to go back home, a terrible thorn of pain impaled him through his back and out his chest. Blood was pouring from Blaze's mouth, his eyes, and his nose. He looked down to see the tip of a gleaming sword soaked in his blood protruding out from him.

Before he passed out, Blaze heard someone lean in and whisper in his ear.

"The master would like to speak with you."

Then before Blaze could react or even remotely summon his powers, everything went black.


	10. Chapter 10

*When Johnny Blaze woke up, everything around him was blurry and his eyelids felt like something had crusted over them. Blood maybe.

Goblets full of pain spilled through his arms and he tried moving them but they wouldn't budge. They were tied tightly behind his back by rope, pressed up against the back of the chair he was strapped in.

"You're awake," a booming voice said. Blaze straightened as best he could and stared straight ahead at his captor. It was Stephen Lords—Deathwatch—but looking different this time. His once long hair was now cut short above his shoulders and instead of the armor he wore last time he fought Blaze, he wore a black kimono to better match his companions associated with the Hand. In his hand he gripped a long, silver sword that emanated an eerie green but vague glow.

"Is that for me? You shouldn't have," Blaze groaned.

Stephen took a step forward. "You thought I was gone?"

"I figured you were still around. I got a little busy though," Blaze admitted.

Stephen shook his head. "Humans. You're all the same."

"Who said I was human?" Blaze asked.

Stephen raised his sword so that the tip was hovering at Blaze's neck. "I know what's in you. I know what Mephisto has done to you, but you're not invincible, as this very sword proved."

"If you can kill me with it why haven't you done it yet?" Blaze asked.

"Because you're the one who knows how I can get the Medallion out of your machine. No spell I've done has succeeded in getting it out."

"You might want to rethink your technique," Blaze said.

Stephen took another dangerous step forward and this time the tip of the sword was gently pressed up against the small of Blaze's neck. "The one inside you. The one named Zarathos won't cooperate with me, but he'll cooperate with you. Use his power to get that Medallion out of the machine."

Blaze's eyes darted past Stephen and spotted Blaze's motorcycle sitting against the wall. But that wasn't what startled Blaze the most. On their knees, a family of four were under the mercy of a large, bulky man covered in some red substance that was constantly reshaping itself. It stared at Blaze through yellow, pupil-less eyes.

"Ah, you see them. Now you know why you have tell me how to take the Medallion. The Death Ninja here _will_ kill them if you do not."

Blaze smirked. "Death Ninja?"

"Yes."

Blaze rolled his eyes. "Dear god, who comes up with these names?"

Stephen frowned. "What?"

"Come on, _Death_ Ninja? Really? I thought the name 'Ghost Rider' was stupid the first time I heard it, but it's better than 'Death Ninja'."

A member of the Hand standing in the room suddenly snickered.

"Enough!" Stephen snapped. "The medallion, or this family dies."

Blaze didn't want that for the family of course, but something wasn't right. He couldn't feel Zarathos—at all. It was as if he wasn't there inside him at all.

Then it began to dawn on him. Zarathos was really not inside him anymore. This realization pulled his eyes up high.

"I don't have the power to release the Medallion from the motorcycle, not without the Spirit," Blaze said.

"But you _do_ have the Spirit! You have Zarathos himself!"

"I mean it. He's not in me. It's like he just—left," Blaze said.

Stephen's shoulders suddenly rose and his nostrils flared. "What do you mean?"

"I'm saying he's not with me anymore. He ran off. I think he ran when one of your cronies stabbed me with that sword there. It was a sword forged in heaven itself isn't it?" Blaze asked.

Stephen gazed down at the sword he was holding and realization began to dawn on him too. "Yes."

"He's wounded, but he can still find a new host. He's probably going through the city looking for one right now."

For a brief second, fear arced through Stephen's features but was quickly replaced by rage. He made a signal to the red-soaked form behind him, and it immediately unsheathed its own sword and slit the neck of the older man in the family. The rest of the family screamed in horror and grief.

"I'm telling you the truth! Damn it, I'm telling you the truth!" Blaze pleaded.

"I believe you! I can't sense Zarathos inside you, which now makes you worthless to me," Stephen declared.

Blaze thought fast. "Not quite. You can still get the Medallion without the Spirit. You're holding the key to that right now."

Stephen glanced at his sword again. "Explain."

"Take the sword to my motorcycle. Hack it to pieces with it and you'll literally be able to sever the medallion off of it," Blaze said.

Stephen walked over to the motorcycle to test that strategy. He took his sword to it, and as he slashed away at it, it indeed fell to pieces until it was a heap of broken metal. Glowing from the pile of gray and black was the yellow of the Medallion itself. A fiendish grin cut across Stephen's face and he reached down and took up the Medallion.

"At last. The war against Mephisto himself can finally begin," he said.

Blaze knew that wherever Zarathos was, he wasn't going to allow Stephen to hold on to the Medallion. It was far too important to him.

As if on queue with his thoughts, the pile of metal and tires began trembling like an earthquake that was affecting nothing but the motorcycle parts. The Medallion was wrenched out of Stephen's hand by an invisible force, and it joined the rest of the metal as it all flew up in the air and began reassembling itself into a full motorcycle again. Once it was completely back together again, it fell to the floor on its wheels and speeded out the door, narrowly missing Stephen's companion. Stephen whirled around to face Blaze with fear and frustration daunting his eyes.

Blaze shrugged as best he could while bound. "Wasn't me."**

*" _You are mine now_ ," the voice said inside Flagg's head.

"Who are you?" Flagg asked.

" _Don't act so surprised_. _I'm the one you asked for_. _You now have what you want_ — _power to destroy the guilty_. _You want vengeance_. _So do I_. _I think you would like it if we payed that man Martin Thraller a visit_."

Martin was the man who was responsible for Jennifer getting nabbed in the first place, which eventually led to her own grim death.

 _He has to pay_.

" _Yes_. _He will_."

A violent fire broke out over Flagg's hands and extended up his arms. His face blackened as if burnt and his eyes glowed a devilish yellow. His skin peeled away to reveal a shiny, white skull underneath bathed in flames.

 _Oh yeah_. _That feels good_.

Ghost Rider-turned Flagg stared down at his new bony hands and bent his fingers. The knuckles popped but instead of wincing, Flagg chuckled at the sound. That could be the sound of Martin's head if he goes to him.

" _Our ride's here_ ," Zarathos said.

Smashing through Blaze's closed garage door was Hell Cycle in flames.

" _Now go_ , _while you have the chance_."

 _Don't mind if I do_.

Flagg left behind the Darkhold on the floor and got on the motorcycle, soaking in the sound of its engine and feeling raw power coursing through him. It wasn't supposed to feel natural—but to him it did.

The Ghost Rider laughed and laughed as Hell Cycle swerved around and darted back outside. The Rider held on to his chain which whistled behind him.**

*Both Stephen and Blaze were equally startled by the sounds of a motorcycle engine and wild laughter outside. Stephen stomped over to the window and looked out. Blaze noticed that what he saw shook him to his core.

"It's true. Zarathos found a new host," he said.

Blaze fidgeted. Who did Zarathos take? The thought that maybe just maybe it was Flagg sucked all the heat out of his body.

Stephen turned to Death Ninja. "Kill the prisoner and wait for further orders."

Death Ninja nodded and first slit the throats of the rest of the family. Blaze's stomach was on fire. He felt like he was about to ready to throw up. When Stephen ran out of the room, Death Ninja started to walk towards Blaze with his bloody sword in hand.

For the first time in a very long time, Blaze didn't know what to do to get out of his situation. With the powers of Ghost Rider, getting himself out of deadly scenarios was—easier.

The Death Ninja raised his sword over his head with both hands, intending on slashing it down squarely on Blaze's head. Blaze squeezed his eyes shut.

 _Roxanne_.

Just as the sword came down halfway, Death Ninja was stopped short by an oddly-timed sound.

Clapping.

Death Ninja turned to stare at the only other member of the Hand in the room—and it was clapping.

"Yeah! Whoo! This is usually one of those scenarios where the villain waits too long to finally make the finishing move, so it gives the hero the chance he needs to break away," the Hand member said.

Death Ninja's eyes narrowed and he raised his sword again.

"And even better—this time the hero doesn't really _have_ a way to get out. Tsk tsk."

Even Blaze was confused by this turn of events. Death Ninja turned back to look at him.

"I'm just as confused as you are," Blaze admitted.

"It's a great cinematic moment. Not cliche at all. But I'm afraid I'm gonna have to bring in another cliche."

A deep growl emanated from Death Ninja's throat.

"This is the part where someone else saves the hero at the very last, convenient second," the masked Hand member said.

From the holster hidden underneath his shirt, the ninja removed a pistol from it and fired a bullet straight through the center of Death Ninja's head. Death's head snapped back and his body began to fall. It vanished before it could hit the floor and reappeared behind the ninja.

"Oh, great," the ninja whined. He reached for two steel katanas on his back and pulled them out of their sheaths as he whirled around to parry Death's sword.

"You can't just take a cool character and give him whatever powers you want! That's not how it works!" The ninja said.

Two deadly beams exploded from Death's eyes, which the ninja deflected by crossing his katanas in front of him. Once it finally stopped, the ninja seized the chance to launch at Death and stab him repeatedly in the chest with his katanas. There was no blood as he slashed away, and the wounds kept quickly shutting themselves up again.

"Come—the hell— _on_!" The ninja yelled. Nothing he was doing with his katanas was affecting Death. In fact, it was only making him angrier. The ninja flipped backwards to land beside Blaze in his chair and sliced his katana upward, cutting the ropes that kept Blaze bound.

"Help me out here, man. Wadey can't die, but he likes to get his crap done," he said.

"I don't have the Ghost Rider anymore," Blaze replied as he got up.

"That's fine. Just do martial arts. That's what superheroes do when they're on a low budget."

"Who are you?" Blaze asked.

"Wade Wilson. Deadpool. And I'm not supposed to be here," Deadpool said.

Death Ninja came at both Blaze and Deadpool with his sword over his head again. He swung his sword down to slice down through Blaze again. Blaze dove out of the way and rolled back onto his feet.

"What do we do?" He asked.

Deadpool tossed him a glock. Blaze caught it and immediately started firing round after round into Death.

"Be careful with that one, I was saving it for later!" Deadpool said.

"For what?" Blaze asked.

Deadpool wasn't able to respond (surprisingly) as Death fired a hail of electricity from the palm of his boiling hand towards Blaze. Blaze rolled out of the way and watched the part of the wall where he had just been at explode into a pile of debris and rubble.

Wade peaked out of his cover behind the chair with a machine gun and unloaded an entire clip into Death's throat.

"Protect me, chair!" He hollered.

After four clips of nonstop fire, Deadpool ran out of ammo. "Aw, crap! I'm out of budget! Do something!"

Then as if by magic, several more cartridges appeared in the air and fell at Wade's feet. "Oh—oh you amazing _bastard_. The budget is so much higher around here."

Death shifted his electricity power towards Wade and Wade screamed as he was caught in the line of fire.

"Too high! Too high!" Wade shrieked.

Blaze got up onto his feet and looked at his own hands as he felt something sparking inside of him. Just because Zarathos was gone didn't mean he was 'normal' again. There was still some kind of power in him, which still gave him the ability to fight. From his hand he was able to produce a fiery chain.

He grinned. Zarathos may had left him, but he still wanted to leave behind a little bit of himself to taunt Blaze.

"Holy hell! That's the _one_ thing Green Lantern has that I wish I had!" Wade yelled.

When Death spotted the chain in Blaze's hand, he paused as if he was shocked by it. Maybe he was. It didn't matter though. He twirled the chain in his hand and unleashed it around Death's waist. Death struggled and screamed from an unseen mouth. The sound was almost deafening. Blaze strode over to Death as he fell on his knees. With one last yank, Death's body began to dissolve. Before his face did, he said one thing that caught Blaze off guard.

"Thank you."

 _This one_ wanted _to die_.

Was the one inside the body of this beast just a regular human like him trapped within something else?

"Wow, that was some heavy, heavy junk right there," Wade said stepping forward.

"What were you doing here in the first place?" Blaze asked.

"I'm looking for someone. Some son of a bitch who calls himself the Attendant. He has my girl. Only problem is, I think I took myself to the wrong universe. It's too kid-friendly here," Wade said.

Blaze handed him his glock back. "Then I guess I know what you were saving this gun for."

"Oh no, it wasn't going to be for _that_ ," Wade replied.

Blaze frowned.

"Now that I've rescued you like a true superhero, I can move on," Wade said.

"Wait. There's one more thing I need to see," Blaze said. Wade stopped short and Blaze reached over and took off Wade's mask—revealing an ugly, scarred, and deformed face.

"Sorry man, no thank you. I'm interested in girls right now."

"Your face looks like it went through a meat grinder," Blaze said.

"Your face looks like a character from _The Walking Dead_ ," Wade replied.

Blaze frowned again. "I don't understand. I don't—sense—that you're guilty of anything."

"What? Hell, man, guilt is beneath me. I am nothing but a shining example of all that is sexy and beautiful."

"Maybe a little heavy on the pride factor but—the way I see it, every guilty thing has been done to _you_ ," Blaze said.

"That's right, candlestick. _I'm_ the victim. Always have been."

Though Wade was being snarky as he said it, Blaze knew—somehow knew—that he was telling the truth.

"Hey, listen. I know you must be fantasizing about me in some wonderful ways here but I gotta go before Kevin Feige finds out I'm here."**

*For days it was just darkness. Martin Thraller's eyes were completely gone, replacing his vision with a galaxy that had no stars. Every other part of his body ached and he yearned for a drink of water.

In the silence, someone screamed.

Martin tried opening his eyes but then remembered that he didn't have them anymore. Something crashed and shattered. A door flew open and snapped off its hinges.

Martin's entire body shook and he clutched the covers that were over him.

"Martin Thraller."

Martin screamed at the sound of the voice. It was so terrifying—so inhuman.

"You're going to pay for your sins."

"Jennifer. _Jennifer_!" Martin screamed.


	11. Chapter 11

Years Ago…

Blaze was covered in dirt and soot as he worked on Hell Cycle in his garage. It was his safe haven. One of the only places where he could be alone. The gas cap on the motorcycle emanated an eerie glow.

Zarathos wasn't saying anything that day, which made the experience even better. There was always that reminder that Blaze's life wasn't normal thanks to the glowing cap, but it was still better than a demonic voice in his head. Instead, he got to fill the garage with the sound of Eminem and he had half a bottle of Bud Light sitting on his workbench.

The moment was cracked when someone knocked on the door. Blaze stood up and hesitated. If it was Crash, he didn't feel like talking to him at the moment. Who else could it be?

Blaze felt a heat wave swallow him up when he opened the door to find Flagg standing there. He had his hands shoved in his pockets and he looked like it hurt him to make eye contact with him.

"Hey," he said.

Blaze waited a few seconds before responding. "Hey."

"Can I come in?" Flagg asked.

Blaze looked back at Hell Cycle with its glowing gas cap. "Just a second."

He let Flagg in after tossing a sheet over Hell Cycle, which was thick enough to cover up the light from the cap.

"You want a drink?" Blaze asked.

"Please," Flagg replied.

Blaze went to the mini fridge and handed his old friend a beer. "I was beginning to wonder if I was going to have this pack all to myself."

Flagg used the bottle opener given to him to pop the bottle open. "I'm sure you've been blowing through these fast."

"You can say that," Blaze said. He sat down on top of his workbench with a rag draped over his leg. "So what are you doing here? I thought you didn't want to see us again."

Flagg stayed standing while taking a swig from his bottle. "Being alone allowed me time to think. I'm done isolating myself. I want to come back."

Blaze tilted his head. "To stay?"

Flagg nodded. "Yeah. Yeah. I mean—it wasn't your fault what happened."

Blaze didn't answer. He didn't know what to say. On one hand, he was relieved to know that Flagg was willing to give their friendship a second chance, but on the other hand Flagg's leave a while ago still stung. He got up one morning and Flagg was just gone. No note, no phone call, nothing. He just ran away from his problems instead of deciding to face them head-on.

"Your dad might not be too happy to see you," Blaze said.

"I know. Wouldn't be the first time I've upset him. He's used to it at this point."

Blaze silently nodded.

"It's crazy what happened to Quentin's captor. The way he was murdered was—ghastly," Flagg said.

Blaze didn't answer. He was afraid of saying something that would expose his other identity, and Flagg was in no position to know about it. Not yet.

"And I think that that man deserved it. Every ounce of pain," Flagg said.

Blaze stood up and threw his arms around his friend. "Welcome back, Flagg."

Flagg returned the embrace, trying to keep a hold on his bottle. "I'm not going anywhere this time. This time, I'm here to stay."**

Present Day

* _Flagg was always one who believed in justice_ — _in whatever form that may take_.

While it didn't make the situation any less terrifying, it didn't surprise Blaze that Zarathos was attracted to Flagg. He had always carried a deep seeded hatred towards the ones that had snatched Jennifer away on that fateful night. That night bent him. Jennifer's death broke him.

On a motorcycle he took from a bar parking lot, Blaze knew exactly where Flagg and Zarathos were. A man named Martin Thraller was the one behind Jennifer's abduction, and he was in the hospital now for losing his eyes in a fight with a S.H.I.E.L.D agent.

The thing that was scarier about Zarathos than anything else was that he knew the heart of the person he was inside of, more than the person itself might.

Flagg possibly even made a deal with Zarathos to ensure that Martin would get his. But then that meant Flagg had to do something for Zarathos in return. What was that?

The thought made Blaze want to turn into Ghost Rider and go faster to get to the hospital, but he didn't have that power anymore. At least not for a while. He had to get there and take it from Flagg, and he knew exactly how.

While racing down the street, trying to cut corners to reach the hospital, several other motorcycles driven by members of the Hand came up on both sides of him. One removed his sword from his sheath to get at him. He swerved closer and swung with one hand, just barely missing Blaze's side. Blaze slightly veered to the left and tried to stay steady. He didn't need to be Ghost Rider to know how to expertly ride a motorcycle. This was something that he had been doing for so long now. It was what he was best at. When he was normal.

 _This is me being normal_.

Blaze allowed the chain to materialize in his hand again and he lashed out at the ninja on his right. The end of the chain wrapped itself around the ninja's neck and Blaze wrenched him off his bike. The bike fell over onto its side and another ninja riding a motorcycle collided into it, tossing the rider into the air like a rag doll.**

*Stephen Lords watched Blaze from a roof as Blaze and members of the Hand sped past the building. He gestured to several ninjas standing by him.

"Take him out," he ordered.

They ran to catch up, armed with crossbows.**

*Blaze could hear the arrows whistling their way towards him and veered left and right to avoid them as they missed him and struck the pavement.

 _Crap_. _I can deal with ninjas on the ground with me but I can't fight back against the ones on the roofs_.

Blaze was startled to hear several gunshots rattle his eardrums. He risked a look back over his shoulder and saw a squad car speeding down the road behind him.

 _Frank_.

Detective Frank McGee was picking off ninjas one by one on the roofs with his glock. He shot one riding on a motorcycle in the head and shot one running atop a dumpster in the leg. Another ninja on his bike slowed down to line up next to Frank's car with a throwing knife in hand. Before he could toss it at Frank however, an intense bright light exploded out of the car and completely evaporated the ninja into nothing.

 _What was_ that?

Then it hit him.

 _When I first discovered this power, among others inside my head, the lights in my eyes were the brightest they could possibly be. They were so powerful and so sharp, that they drilled through my wife's own eyes and burned a hole through her brain._

That light really _did_ burn.

With a boost of newfound confidence, Blaze twirled the chain in his hand over his head before lashing it out at another nearby ninja and yanking him off his bike. He pulled the cloaked man towards him and struck him across the face. The man fell to the ground and rolled out of view.

A member of the Hand rode up alongside Blaze on his right armed with a katana. A bullet from Frank rang through the air and imbedded itself into the ninja's lower back. The man yelped in pain and tried one last desperate attempt to swing his blade at Blaze's neck. Blaze inched his bike on over to the side to avoid the swing and the ninja fell off his ride in pain. His skull cracked upon hitting the pavement. Blaze picked up speed as Frank turned his car so that it was parked sideways across the one-way street. Blaze halted his bike and saw two ninjas riding on their motorcycles slam into the side of the squad car. Their bodies flew off their seats and smashed into the doors.

"Go, I've got this!" Frank yelled out at Blaze.

Blaze was about to go back and help Frank instead of listening to him, but he saw how well Frank was handling himself. Any ninja that came several feet of him got gunned down or incinerated by the powerful light contained in his eyes.

He had to get to Flagg before he kills Martin. As much as he hated it, he needed to get his demon back.**

*Stephen watched Blaze disappear around a corner. He was about to start running in the direction Blaze went but stopped when he saw a helicopter flying past him. Normally these kinds of things wouldn't phase Stephen, but he realized something wasn't right. He could feel something like a spiritual presence aboard the helicopter.

Then it struck him.

Whoever was on that helicopter had the Medallion.

With a roar, Stephen unsheathed his sword and ran to catch up with the helicopter.**

*Martin fell to the floor after Ghost Rider threw him down. He started crawling towards the door. He needed to call for help. He needed to—

"Where do you think you're going, Mr. Thraller? Or is that even your _real_ name?" The Rider asked.

Martin's entire body froze when he felt bony fingers grip his neck and hoist him up off his feet. "Maynard Tiboldt. You are guilty for the enslavement and death of the innocent," the Rider said.

"Please—please leave me alone. I don't do any of that anymore," Martin begged.

A crack formed down the middle of the Rider's skull and pulled the face of the skull open, revealing Flagg.

"Remember me? The one that used to make deals with you?" He asked.

Martin gasped at hearing Flagg's voice. "How—what—how did this happen to you?" Martin asked.

"I made a deal. And it's a hell of a lot better than whatever ones I made with _you_ ," Flagg declared.

Martin was dropped again. The pain spiking up his lower back was so sharp he yelped.

"I'm slightly disappointed— _slightly_ —that you don't have eyes at this moment. I would've loved for you to see the pictures."

Martin heard something like paper being shuffled.

"That woman you made pregnant. She's dead now. She worked for you to kidnap Jennifer," Ghost Rider said.

The Rider had several polaroid photos, each one of them displaying Hag's body sprawled out on her hospital bed, which had been riddled with bullets.

"Don't worry. The baby was born first before I killed her. And I don't consider that mercy. It will be without its mother and, very soon, its father."

Ghost Rider dropped the pictures and laid his hand on Martin's head. "You may not be able to see with your own eyes, but you can still see things in your mind."

Martin screamed in horror as certain, ghastly images flooded his mind. Hag's body was lying on the bed in an unnatural way. Blood was everywhere and there were several bullet wounds in her head.

"What did you _do_?" Martin asked.

"Only what you deserve. Now it's time to finish this," Ghost Rider said.

"Hey there, friend," someone said behind him. Ghost Rider whirled around to face Blaze standing in the doorway.

"Don't even," Blaze said.

The Rider roared and summoned his chain to him. He lashed it out at Blaze. Blaze's hand shot up and caught the end of the chain. He grinned.

"Huh."

Blaze took hold of the chain with both hands and wrenched it back, tossing Ghost Rider towards him. Blaze struck the Rider across the head and the spirit of vengeance went down on the ground.

"I hate you!" The Rider screamed.

"I know, but you're stuck with me. You're not going anyone else," Blaze replied. He crouched down to the floor and, before Ghost Rider could react, he grabbed the Rider by the neck and used the power still in him to start transferring Zarathos' soul back into him.

Before he could finish the transfer however, Ghost Rider managed to reach up and strike Blaze across the face, tossing him like a crash dummy across the room. Blaze's body struck the shelf built into the wall and flew into a cart carrying medical supplies. There was enough of the spirit's power in him to repress most of the pain and keep his body intact. He spat blood and scrambled back onto his feet. Seizing the cart, he lifted it up with one hand and chucked it at Ghost Rider. The Rider was able to use his chain to slice the cart in two, both halves collapsing onto the floor.

"You're not in control of me. I'm in control of _you_ ," Blaze said.

"Not as long as he's mine," the Rider said.

"I know. I was just saying those things to make me feel better."

"I have always wondered what Mephisto saw in you that made him grant you vengeance."

"Whatever he saw, they were the wrong things," Blaze said.

Blaze then tensed himself up and summoned all the power he had in him to become the Ghost Rider. Instead of his head transforming into a flaming skull however, a small fire flickered up over his head. Blaze's shoulders sank.

"Well, that was anticlimactic," he said.

From his balled fist, a lengthy chain protruded out and blue flames embraced it. Blaze's eyes lit up, revealing a fire reflecting off his irises. He shot his chain out to wrap it around the Rider's waist. For a moment, nothing happened, and the Rider looked down at his waist and let loose a chilling laugh.

"You fool. A demon can't defeat another demon like this," he said.

 _Evil can't defeat evil_.

The chain disintegrated and dissolved into ash. Blaze felt his hand drop as the weight of the chain fled from it.

 _It would be nice if I had that sword from heaven right about now_.

Blaze didn't have the sword, and Stephen Lords was nowhere to be seen. How could he defeat Zarathos, or at least chase him out of Flagg?

 _You can't just try to talk to Flagg in there_. _You have to talk to Zarathos_. _Flagg doesn't have the experience_. _He can't just will the thing away_. _Not when he wants vengeance just as much as Zarathos._

 _You can't just reason with Zarathos—or_ any _demon for that matter_. _Not unless you want to make a new deal_.

 _No_. _Not again_. _I can't go through that again_.

Blaze shut his eyes, and began reciting the Lord's Prayer. It was the only way he could think of. It was the only real power he had that could defeat the Ghost Rider.

"Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name—." Ghost Rider roared and pressed his bony hands against where his ears should be.

"Thy Kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth, as it is in heaven."

The Rider sank to his knees and continued screaming, trying to drown out Blaze's voice as Blaze got closer and closer to him.

"Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us—."

Blaze stopped when he realized that someone was citing the Scripture right along with him. He looked around and saw no one else around, but the sound of the voice was unmistakable.

 _I know that voice_.

 _Roxanne_.

"Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those that trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation."

Blaze grabbed hold of Ghost Rider's head and forced it up so that its hollow eyes were staring straight up at him.

"But deliver us from evil," Blaze and Roxanne finished.

Once Blaze was finished, the Ghost Rider couldn't scream anymore. Instead, it let loose a pitiful weeping sound. Its head bowed and its form began to slowly transition back to Flagg.

"It's okay, Flagg. It's okay. I'm here," Blaze said.

Blaze could feel the Ghost Rider's power surging back into him, filling up the space between his lungs again and strangling the inside of his throat. It was his burden to carry, but at least he had tamed it.

" _Well done_ , _John_ ," Roxanne said.

Blaze reached over to grasp Roxanne's hand on his shoulder. He said nothing. Tears were sliding down his cheeks. Once all the power had left his best friend, he threw his arms around him and held him tight.

"What—what happened?" Flagg asked.

"I saved my brother," Blaze replied.

Flagg wept as he returned Blaze's embrace.

" _Savor this while it lasts_. _Your friend can't break his deal_ ," Zarathos said.

Blaze gifted himself with the satisfaction of not saying anything back. He didn't have to.**

*Coulson never thought that he would be leaving Santa Fe with something that possibly came from another world—or another realm. The gas cap that belonged to Ghost Rider's motorcycle was found lying on the ground right beside the bike. Why it had been carelessly left behind like that was beyond him, but he didn't care now. The Director would want to get his hands on it and have it analyzed. Perhaps it would serve as a useful tool against the great threats that were coming.

He had the cap in a briefcase he was holding while walking alongside Agent Jasper Sitwell, his bald and smug companion. Behind them were three rows of S.H.I.E.L.D agents and soldiers marching in line.

"Director Fury says we've overstayed our welcome here," Sitwell said.

"I'll admit, I'm not the biggest fan of being in the desert. Can't say I'd love to come again any time soon."

Sitwell glanced down at Coulson's suitcase as he walked. "Director Fury would want you to investigate the—incident—at Harlem. Getting to his office would be out of the way for you, so I can take the case to him from here."

"A shame. I was hoping to deliver the item to him personally. I like the idea of being dramatic about it, you know, with one hand under the case and the other hand opening it up top. Then the glow of the item will light up Director Fury's face as he lets loose some salty expletives."

Sitwell stared. "You don't know the Director at all, do you?"

"I like to think I do. Helps me sleep better at night."

Before Sitwell could respond with a clever quip, the helicopter waiting to pick them up in front of them exploded. Coulson's eyes shot straight up and he slipped in the sand.

"What the hell was _that_?"

Coulson turned around behind him to see a cloaked figure armed with a sword. The necks of the first line of agents in the back of the three lines mysteriously snapped. Simultaneously, they all fell to the ground with unblinking eyes.

Sitwell immediately pulled out a walkie-talkie and tuned in to a particular channel. "This is Agent Sitwell, we need a new ride. Repeat, we need a new ride! Be fast!"

The ground shook, tossing Coulson and Sitwell off their feet as an explosion of sand and dirt engulfed another portion of soldiers. Parts of their bodies rained back down to the ground.

The figure threw his sword so that it spun in the air, and impaled another agent through the chest and out the back. Blood dripped from its tip. The man fell when the figure used some sort of telekinetic power with his hand to summon the weapon back to him.

"Where is that damn helicopter?!" Sitwell screamed.

Coulson was entranced by what he was seeing. He thought he knew all of what to expect in his field of work. This, however, was something else. Something far more horrifying.

The air stank of blood and smoke. Dirt was crusting over Coulson's eyes from the ground's recent outbursts. He could hear his heart pounding through his ears as it felt like it was trying to find a way out.

Finally—mercifully—another helicopter arrived, landing as close to Coulson and Sitwell as possible. The cloaked figure realized that they were about to get away, and made it an effort to cut down the remaining soldiers in front of him even faster now.

"Come on, come on!" Sitwell yelled. He dragged Coulson by the hand, and the two of them leaped together onto the helicopter.

" _GO_!" Sitwell screamed at the pilot.

In a frantic hurry, the pilot began lifting the helicopter off.

Then it shuddered and stopped going up. Coulson looked down to see the figure below with an outstretched hand, using whatever power he had to keep the helicopter from getting away. Coulson wrestled his stun gun out of his holster and fired off several rounds. The first two missed, but the third caught the figure squarely in the hand. With a pained cry, the cloaked man dropped his hand and held onto it. Coulson could vaguely see blood dripping from its fingers in the light the helicopter was emanating.

Relief poured over him like a bucket of refreshing water. He sat back in his seat and let out a deep breath.

 _Feels good to be alive._

Then he realized something as he was clutching the briefcase to his chest. Something felt bumpy. He pulled the case back to take a closer look at it and his eyes widened at what he saw.

There was a gaping hole in the case, and the cap was missing. Amidst all the chaos, the figure was somehow able to use his own power to carve a hole in the case and pull the medallion to him. He had what he needed.

"You've got to be frickin' kidding me," Sitwell said when he saw what Coulson saw.

"We can't go back," Coulson replied in a hushed tone.

"That thing is valuable. _Beyond_ valuable. We can't just leave it behind."

"We have to. We're not strong enough to take him. This is a job for the skull guy," Coulson said.

Sitwell groaned and placed his head in his hands. "Director Fury will _not_ be happy about this."

"It wouldn't be the first time."**

*Back on the ground, Stephen Lords held the Medallion in his hand, rubbing his fingers over it like it was a coin. A triumphant grin coursed through his face and his eyes glowed a feverish yellow. He pressed his thumb down at the very center and it opened up like a compass, revealing an orange gem contained within.

It was the Soul Gem. One of six Infinity Stones in the galaxy.

And now it was Stephen Lord's.

 _Nothing will stop me now_. _Prepare yourself, Mephisto_. _I_ will _ensnare you_ and _kill_ _your Ghost Rider_.


	12. Chapter 12

Safe now in Blaze's garage, Flagg was sitting next to Blaze's motorcycle with his head between his legs. Blaze went to his fridge and moved a few beers aside to grab a water bottle in the back. He handed it to Flagg.

"Drink. You were on fire. Literally," he said.

Flagg took it and started gulping the water down. He didn't stop until he was halfway through it. He coughed and tried to keep himself from vomiting. He handed the bottle back to Blaze. Blaze shook his head so that Flagg would hold on to it.

"John? What did I do?" Flagg asked.

"You did nothing," Blaze replied.

"That was still my body. Whatever had taken ahold of me—used me," Flagg said.

"You had no control over it, except for the 'making a deal' part."

"Oh, crap," Flagg groaned.

"Flagg, what was the deal you made?"

"I don't remember," Flagg said.

"That's not possible."

"Well it is in _my_ case, okay?"

" _Flagg_ ," Blaze said, kneeling down so that his eyes were leveled with Flagg's. "I can't help you if you don't remember the deal you made with Zarathos, and Zarathos isn't going to tell me."

"I don't know," Flagg whined. "Even if I did remember, what would it matter? A deal's a deal, and it can't be broken. You should know that better than anybody."

Blaze nodded. "True, I do know that. But I've broken the mold before."

Flagg sighed. His shoulders shook and it sounded like he was having a difficult time breathing. Seeing his friend like this cut deep through Blaze's heart.

His thoughts were cut short when he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket. He pulled it out and frowned at the number. He didn't recognize it.

"Hello?" He answered.

" _Blaze_ , _this is Frank_."

"How did you get this number?" Blaze asked.

" _I'm a police detective_ , _I have access to a lot of records_."

"What is it?"

" _I think those ninjas we were fighting earlier are at it again. We've got a victim here. Open sword wound in his neck_."

"Alright, I'll be right there." Blaze hung up. "I gotta go."

"I'll come with you," Flagg said.

"You can barely walk. You're in shock."

" _I'm fine_. I don't feel safe by myself anymore."

Blaze stood up and held his hand out for Flagg to take. He wasn't going to argue with him. He understood. He understood all too well.

Flagg let Blaze lift him up. "John?"

"Yeah?"

"I think I understand you now. Every bit of you."

"I never wanted that to happen for you."

"Well, it did. I got powers, and not the awesome kind of power that people would beg for. It's not—noble."

Blaze shook his head. "No. It's not. It's a burden." He placed a gentle hand on his brother's shoulder.

"But no burden is beyond taming."

"I think I was able to tame it—for a little bit at least. I was 'awake'—for just one moment. When I reached the hospital, I took the gas cap off of the motorcycle and left it on the ground. I'm sure you know it wasn't just a gas cap. It was the motorcycle's own energy source. Without it, the Rider would lose a lot of its power. That thing in my head wasn't able to control me to put it back on."

Blaze nodded. "I was wondering where it went. Only problem is, it wasn't there anymore when I got to it. It's gone."**

*Blaze and Flagg used Flagg's car to arrive on the scene once Frank texted the address to Blaze. It was worse than Frank had described over the phone. Not only was a man being wheeled towards an ambulance, but the man's home was bathed in flames. Several firemen were using their hoses to snuff the fire out but it was a stubborn one.

"Stay in here," Blaze told Flagg. Flagg didn't argue this time.

Blaze ran up to Frank's side to get a better look at the man who had been killed by Stephen or a member of the Hand. The man had been zipped up in a bag and placed on a cart.

"Can I see it?" Blaze asked.

Frank nodded and motioned to the ambulance attendants to stop rolling the cart. They obeyed, and Frank nodded again to give Blaze permission to unzip the bag. Blaze went for it, doing it quickly to get it over with. The man's neck was indeed completely open. Blood soaked his shirt and his eyes were shut tight.

 _This was Stephen Lords' doing all right_.

" _He has too much innocent blood on his hands_."

 _You don't have the right to talk_.

"So, what are you—or the other guy—going to do?" Frank asked.

Blaze stepped back and Frank motioned to the attendants to continue wheeling the cart away. "Cut off the head of the snake. I know, really cliche thing to say, but it's true. Think back to all those investigations you had into all that ash that was left behind in those homes. There's an organization running around called the Hand, and their leader is a demon that had been banished from his own land."

"I'll believe _anything_ at this point, Mr. Blaze. So where is this—demon?" Frank asked.

Blaze shrugged. "Honestly, I don't know. He keeps moving from place to place. He never stays in the same spot for too long."

Frank groaned. "Well, we have to start _somewhere_."

Frank's phone started buzzing, and he grunted as he pulled it out of his pocket and answered it. "Hello?"

" _Detective McGee_. _This is Agent Coulson_. _You need to tell Blaze to 'suit up'. Some person or some_ thing _has the Medallion that powers the Rider's motorcycle_. _He needs to stop it_."

"Got it. He's right here with me," Frank said. He hung up and his eyes shined with fear.

"I think the one you're looking for has something you need," Frank explained.

Blaze's eyes widened. _The Medallion_.

"So what now?" Frank asked.

Blaze shut his eyes. Using the powers given to him by the Spirit of Vengeance, he would be able to locate the Medallion in his head.

 _Now concentrate_. _Where would he take it?_

Blaze stretched out mentally to search for the Medallion and all the souls contained within. Most importantly about the Medallion was that it contained one of the six Infinity Stones. Whoever was in possession of just one of them was guaranteed tremendous power. In this case, the Soul Gem had the ability to trap dozens upon dozens of souls inside of it, allowing its wielder to use them in whatever way he saw fit.

 _And Deathwatch doesn't deserve it_.

Finally, Blaze figured out where it was. Stephen Lords had taken it into the church—the same one where Jennifer's funeral had been held. While the heavenly presence there was enough to block the abilities and speech of one evil soul, with the combined strength of the souls within the Medallion and the power of the Soul Gem, the heavenly presence could be officially blocked from having most of any strength against the enemy.

This also meant however that Blaze could face Stephen Lords inside the church and be able to call upon all of his powers as Ghost Rider. It was a poetic setting to defeat him at.

"The church. He's at the church. I know which one," Blaze finally said aloud.

"I'll go with you. At this point, this is my fight too," Frank said.

Blaze couldn't argue with that. After all of his investigations, this would make for a fitting conclusion to all of it. Plus, Blaze knew that Frank was capable of defending himself. He had seen it firsthand.

Blaze turned to look at Flagg still sitting in the car staring straight ahead.

"I think I have an idea for a third team member too," Blaze said.**

*Blaze, Flagg, and Frank all stood outside the church. Through the stained-glass windows they could see an orange-like color bleeding through. Stephen was already using the Soul Gem.

"Alright, before we go in…" Blaze turned to his friend Flagg, who was wearing his motorcycle vest. "Flagg, I need to ask something of you."

"Name it," Flagg replied, with as much confidence as he could summon. This both surprised and impressed Blaze.

"If you want to fight alongside me against Stephen, then you need to take back some of the Ghost Rider's power. It's the only way you'll have a chance to help me defeat him," Blaze said.

Flagg grimaced, and at first Blaze wondered if he was going to refuse. He wouldn't blame him if he did.

"John, are you sure?" Flagg asked.

Blaze nodded. "Yeah. Both me and Frank have powers, but you don't. You'll need some too. Just this once."

"But can you actually do that? Can you actually—transfer your own power to me just by touching me?" Flagg asked. "I feel like there's more to it."

"There is. But you already did it. You made a deal, whether you remember it or not," Blaze said.

Flagg didn't reply right away. Tears filled his eyes and he looked back at the church which at this point had been swallowed up by the orange light.

"Flagg. You need to make a decision now," Blaze said.

Flagg looked back at him with a tear slithering down his cheek. "Can you promise I won't have it after this is over?"

Blaze bit his lower lip. "I don't make promises. Just deals."

Flagg chuckled. "You may have lost your life, but you never lost your sense of humor."

Blaze chuckled in return. "There are some things a demon can _never_ take away." With that, he placed his hand against the side of Flagg's face and transformed into the Ghost Rider so that some of the power could be transferred into Flagg. A fire enveloped his friend and his face melted away to reveal a screaming skull on fire.

Both Riders now turned to look at Frank. "I take it we're all ready now," Frank said.**

*Stephen Lords stood on the altar in the sanctuary of the church surrounded by kneeling members of the Hand with their heads bowed in respect. In both of his hands, Stephen held the Medallion, now part of a necklace, which was opened up displaying the Soul Gem. The Gem radiated a bright orange, blanketing the walls within the room in a setting sun's light.

 _Ghost Rider will come for me_. _I will kill him_ , _and then come for Mephisto_. _This church will be the place where Mephisto will be ensnared in this gem and become my prisoner forever_.

Predictably, the double doors into the sanctuary flew open, revealing not one but _two_ Ghost Riders, and a police detective armed with his glock.

"Time to pay for your sins," Blaze's Ghost Rider declared, pointing a bony finger at Stephen.

Stephen grinned, cast his cloak aside, and unsheathed the sword from heaven. In one hand he still held the Medallion.

"Do you really think that you'll be able to trap me in that?" Blaze asked.

"I'm not going to trap you in this, _Zarathos_ , I'm going to kill you. Mephisto is the one that's going to have this as his home," Stephen replied. He put the Medallion around his neck and started walking down the steps of the altar.

"You were foolish to bring this Inhuman with you. His power does not even come close to holding a candle to mine, or even your own," Stephen said.

Both Ghost Riders reached behind them and whipped out their own flaming chains with a roar.

"Shut up and beg for forgiveness," Flagg's Ghost Rider said.

"I already tried that. He won't listen," Stephen snarled.

Stephen leaped into the air, soaring higher than any normal man could while jumping, and landed with his sword downward in an attempt to split Blaze's skull. Blaze leaped back just in time and his chain's links stiffened up to form a staff. He and Stephen dueled each other down the aisle. Blaze leaped and came down to strike his foot upon Stephen's head, but ended up missing him and smashing his foot into the floor, kicking up dust and debris. Stephen attempted several stabs at him with his sword, all of which Blaze avoided by swerving his head left and right depending on the direction in which the blade was coming for him.

A member of the Hand slammed into Blaze's back, causing him to tumble forward. Either Flagg or Frank had thrown that ninja. Blaze grabbed the ninja and tossed him at Stephen. Stephen was prepared however, and he sliced straight through the ninja's midsection and came at Blaze again, this time swinging for his legs.

Blaze leaped up and his chain reformed back to normal. Once he landed, Blaze spun the chain in a rapid blur to form a deadly saw, which he ran after Stephen with. Stephen backed up, his eyes searching everywhere for a weak point. He leaped up onto one of the rows and leaped off just as the saw came bearing down on where he had just stood. Chunks of wood exploded into the air, and Blaze used his chain to bat it all at Stephen.

Stephen raised his hand and used his telekinesis to force all the wood back at Blaze. The fragments bounced harmlessly off of Blaze's body.

"I probably should have seen that one coming," Stephen admitted.

With a roar, Blaze launched himself at Stephen with his chain-whip spinning with him. One end of the chain lashed out to wrap itself around Stephen's waist. Stephen managed to catch it with his hand and hold on to it. Blaze tried pulling to yank it out of Stephen's hand, but his grip was strong. He pulled back, wrenching Blaze forward so that he could use one hand to slash his sword down Blaze's side. With a pained cry, Blaze fell to the floor and the rug beneath him boiled and burned as some of his power leaked out from the wound.

 _Hang in there_.

Zarathos was screaming.

 _Don't you_ dare _come out of me again_.

Stephen towered over Blaze now with a fiendish grin. For a moment, Blaze did wonder if this was it. He tried so hard to force himself up but nothing was working. His whole body shook like a mild quake and he could feel the cold breeze of the room began to swallow him as he transitioned back to normal. Stephen raised the sword over his head, the tip of the blade tantalizingly hovering over Blaze's chest.

 _Maybe this wouldn't be so bad_.

Then Stephen was stopped by a chain wrapping itself around his midsection. With a frustrated grunt, Stephen clutched the Medallion dangling around him, and a bright light exploded from it, vaporizing the chain that held him.

Behind him, Flagg's Ghost Rider lunged for him, and he struck Stephen across the face again and again, trying to take him off his feet so that he could finish him. They fought down the aisle out of Blaze's sight.

"Frank!" Blaze shouted. He held his hand out for the detective to take. Frank ran up to him and helped him onto his knees. Icicles of pain needled through his stomach.

" _Ah_! Stop, stop!" Blaze pleaded. Frank let go and the two of them turned to watch as the fight between Flagg and Stephen continued to ensue.

 _This can't be happening right now_.

Flagg aimed to punch Stephen again, but the enemy was ready this time. He used his own hand to stop Flagg's fist, then used his other hand to cut off Flagg's hand. Flagg's Rider screamed and stumbled back, giving Stephen the opportunity he needed. He spun around and impaled Flagg through the chest and out the back.

" _No_!" Blaze screamed.

The fire dancing over Flagg winked out like a lightbulb. The skull's jaw was agape. With a smirk, Stephen reached over and shoved Flagg down off his feet, and marveled in his fall as he cracked his head upon hitting the floor. The Spirit of Vengeance's form blinked off, exposing Flagg's normal human form.

Frank sprang towards Stephen, firing round after round of his glock at the monster while Blaze crawled towards his brother. As Stephen lunged at Frank to slice him in half, Frank used the blinding lights from his eyes to keep Stephen back.

"Flagg. Flagg?" Blaze choked as he reached his friend's side.

Flagg coughed up blood and stared up at Blaze. "This—was the deal I made."

Blaze's heart rate escalated beyond normalcy.

"I always remembered. I just couldn't tell you," Flagg admitted. "Except your demon friend overlooked one thing. He couldn't control how I would die—and that is for you."

Blaze gripped Flagg's hand. Tears coursed down his face in a free fall. He understood why Flagg kept the truth from him. It didn't hurt any less but he understood.

Flagg's breaths started getting heavier as he tried to stay awake for just a moment longer. A weak smile broke through his face. "I'm so glad—that I actually did something good—in that form."

Blaze nodded. The tears were still coming. "You did. You did."

Flagg coughed up more blood and the life was leaving his eyes too quickly. "Now—no more pain. No more tears."

Blaze's heart leaped up behind his teeth once Flagg stopped breathing.

" _You can bring him back_."

Blaze shook his head. "I can't. I can't! He did what he wanted to do. He's somewhere better now." He leaned down and kissed Flagg on the forehead.

 _So much pain_. _I can't do this anymore_ —.

There was still Stephen to take care of. Frank was holding him back as best he could with his light, but Stephen was beginning to use the light from the Medallion to combat against it and get closer.

 _You have to fight this pain_. _Just a few seconds more_.

Blaze reached for his chain which was lying beside him and got up. His form immediately transformed back into Ghost Rider and he roared. It wasn't a roar of anger like it usually was however. It was raw, deep pain.

A fire twisted itself around his chain again and he ran past Frank to take down Stephen. His chain reformed back into a staff. Stephen prepared to defend himself.

After the first strike, both weapons collided. The same happened after the second strike.

Blaze was keeping track of Stephen's moves however. He had become predictable and he was running low on energy. He was getting slower.

 _There_. _The upper stomach while he has his sword raised_.

The chain stabbed up through Stephen's stomach, but not deep enough to cut bone. Stephen's eyes widened and he gasped in pain. He fell onto his knees as he dropped his sword. Blaze grabbed his head before he could crumple completely to the ground. He removed the Medallion from around Stephen's neck and stuffed it in his pocket.

" _This is it_. _Have your vengeance_. _Use the penance stare_. _Let your enemy suffer as his victims had suffered_."

In Blaze's mind, the only thing he could think of was to destroy Stephen in the worst way possible.

And yet—.

 _I'm so glad that I actually did something good in this form_.

Flagg's words rang through Blaze's head on a loop. Whether it was some kind of heavenly intervention or Blaze's own convictions seeping in through Zarathos' influence didn't matter. The words were powerful enough to cause Blaze to stop.

Stephen looked up at Blaze with hate swimming in his eyes. His teeth bared and he looked like he was about to spit at his face.

The sight didn't phase Blaze like it used to. Not anymore.

"I forgive you," Blaze finally said.

Stephen's expression changed to one of shock. His jaw dropped and his eyes bulged.

" _WHAT?"_ Zarathos screamed.

"I forgive you," Blaze said again. He released Stephen from his grip, allowing him to fall onto his hands.

"For everything," Blaze finished.

" _NOOOOOOO_!"

Blaze loosed his chain back into its normal form and wrapped it around himself. He had the Medallion now and Stephen's henchmen were all accounted for.

 _Maybe_ , _just maybe_ , _Stephen will stop_. _He has always wanted forgiveness_. _Now he has it_.

Blaze turned to start walking away, and the Rider vanished to reveal his human body. "Let's go, Detective."

Frank was too shocked to move. It was as if none of his muscles were working.

"Detective," Blaze said.

Frank shook his head.

"Let's go."

Frank was about to turn to leave with Blaze, then stopped when he heard a sudden noise. Blaze heard it too. The sounds of dozens and dozens of souls crying out for Stephen himself to save them.

And they were all coming from the Medallion.

"Blaze, duck!" Frank cried. Blaze did what he was told without question and he heard a gunshot. When he turned around, Stephen was lying on the floor with his sword back in hand and a bullet hole in his head.


	13. Chapter 13

**AN: Here's the last chapter for this series. Acknowledgements and extra notes are below after the end.**

 _Well_ , _here goes nothing_.

Blaze entered Ralph Quentin's office, tensing up for whatever crap Ralph was going to throw at him. Upon seeing him, Ralph indeed looked like he was going to start throwing crap.

"You actually have the audacity to come here, after everything that has happened?" He asked.

"Well. Yeah," Blaze replied.

"You have ten seconds to tell me what you want or I'm calling the police," Quentin said. His hand rested on his phone.

"I'm leaving. I'm leaving the city. I just came back to say goodbye and get my things."

"Your ass is not getting back on that motorcycle, Mr. Blaze. That's carnival property. You can leave _that_ at the door when you leave."

Blaze didn't reply right away. His lips pursed and he tried to think of the next thing to say but he was growing tired of defending himself. Flagg was dead, his career as a stuntman was nonexistent now, and he didn't have a specific place to call home anymore. All he knew was that he was done there in Santa Fe. There was just one more thing he had to do.

"Quentin, look, I know you're probably not going to accept this apology but—I _am_ sorry. For everything that happened. It is best that I just leave the carnival. It's the best way to repay you now at this point."

Wild rage distorted Quentin's features. He pulled open his desk drawer and pulled out a glock and aimed it at Blaze.

"Maybe I should just kill you. Maybe _that_ will be better payment."

"Kill me? Like you killed Vince's parents?" Blaze asked.

Quentin's eyebrows flared up and his jaw dropped. The hand clutching the glock started to tremble. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't lie. The guy inside me doesn't like it when people lie."

"How—how do you know—?"

"Vince wouldn't have gone through all that trouble to sabotage the carnival and try to kill you if he didn't know that something really happened. All your body language right now confirms that you really _did_ do something."

Sweat was glossing over Quentin's forehead. He couldn't hide now.

"I wasn't able to detect that you were guilty of that at the time—because you _have_ no guilt. You're just afraid now of getting caught," Blaze said.

"What are you going to do?" Quentin asked.

"Achieve vengeance. But not in the way I usually do," Blaze said.

Not wanting to give Blaze a chance, Quentin pulled the trigger—and realized that the chamber was empty. The office door then suddenly flew open, revealing Frank McGee and several police officers.

"Mr. Ralph Quentin. You're under arrest for the murders of Mr. And Mrs. Sanders," Frank announced.

Not too long ago after Stephen's death, Blaze had asked Frank to do just one investigation for him before he leaves Santa Fe. To see if the deaths of Vince's parents were actually connected to Ralph Quentin himself. This would include emptying Quentin's glock while he wasn't in his office to see if he would shoot at Blaze. Frank and his men had also picked up on every word Blaze and Quentin had said in the room. This moving carnival wasn't going to move anymore.

Blaze watched Quentin get handcuffed and led away. A man that he had known all his life was now being taken in as a proven criminal for who knew how long. It didn't matter at this point. Blaze was going to be long gone.**

*While watching Quentin get driven away, Frank stayed behind outside to stand with Blaze. There was a small group of protesters demanding that Quentin be released, but they were ignored.

"So, where will you go?" Frank asked.

Blaze shook his head. "I don't really know yet. I kind of fancy the idea of going to Los Angeles. It's huge, easy to blend in. That sort of thing."

"What about that book of magic mumbo jumbo you've got? Is it going with you?"

"Yep. No one else can have it. God help anyone else who gets their hands on it."

"And the Medallion?"

"It was taken last night."

"Taken? How? How could it have been taken under your watch?"

Blaze shifted his foot as if nervous to continue talking. "I let them take it. They were sorcerers—from another dimension."

"Keep going."

"They told me that I'm not supposed to have the gem anymore. It belongs somewhere else. I didn't ask them where, but I was willing to give it to them. That way, no one else out there will hunt me down for it."

"What about your bike? Doesn't the thing power it?"

"Yes and no. It doesn't have as much power as it used to, but as long as a Ghost Rider rides it, it will gain enough energy."

For a moment, Blaze and Frank said nothing and listened the sounds of the protesters die out as cops started to push them away.

"You earned it you know. The title of 'hero'," Frank said.

Blaze smirked. "I'm not a hero. At least, not like the big-name guys. I'll make do with what I've got. I learned here that I can."

"Glad to know you can get _something_ out of Santa Fe."

"I ended up losing a lot here too."

Frank put a hand on Blaze's shoulder. "We both lost something or someone special to us. That doesn't mean we have to be bad people."

Blaze nodded. He didn't have to say that he knew that. "At least—I was able to let this city go on with one less scoundrel, and I didn't even have to become the Ghost Rider."

Frank grinned. "Yeah, see, there you go. That's something to be proud of."**

*Blaze rode Hell Cycle to the edge of town until he was directly at the city limits. He took one last look back, allowing for a moment for everything that had happened there to soak in. It was a lot. He would still be thinking about it and dwelling on it long after he left. He lost things, but he gained some. He never thought that he would ever reach a point where he could 'tame' the Ghost Rider.

 _The Ghost Rider_. _Yeah_. _That's what I am_. _But maybe not for much longer_. _Maybe there's someone else out there who needs to learn the same things I did_. _Someone who has a desire for vengeance_. _Whoever I transfer this power to better be deserving of it_.

The idea of transferring Zarathos over to someone else at first was unthinkable to him. How could he pass this burden on to someone else to permanently carry?

 _This was where some heavenly intervention would be useful to make my path clearer_.

As Blaze sped over past the city limits, he allowed himself to be transformed into Ghost Rider again, and for the motorcycle to be enveloped in flames. He wasn't looking to settle scores tonight, but he liked the idea that he could travel faster this way.

 _How about I just wave the chain over me too as I ride_? _I don't know why it's necessary but it's kind of cool_.

And so Blaze did exactly that. The sun was setting ahead of him, but a new light would penetrate the coming darkness.**

Years Later…

 _God, help me_!

Blaze, in his Ghost Rider form, stayed sitting on his motorcycle on the side of the road. He saw the car flip and the young man's body flying through the air after it went through the windshield.

 _God_! _Somebody_! _ANYBODY_!

Blaze revved up his engine. He could hear cries for help in his head, and they were coming from the mind of that young man.

 _Please don't let my brother die_! _Please_! _I'll do anything_!

That was the key word. _Anything_.

Was this really it? Was this really the time when Blaze would transfer his power over to someone else? And not just part of it like he did for Flagg. This time, it would be all of it. The young man would need it to survive.

The man struck the concrete and rolled over a few times before stopping to rest with his body twisted and broken. He was dead the second his body hit the ground. All of those desperate cries immediately stopped.

Blaze drove his motorcycle over to the crash site. The car was hopelessly in shambles and bathed in fire. He could see the brother that the man was crying about trapped underneath the rubble inside. He grabbed him by the leg and dragged him out. This boy was going to live. He slightly stirred, and Blaze turned around and immediately started walking towards the other man.

" _His name is Robbie Reyes_ ," Zarathos said.

 _Robbie_ , _you will have your vengeance_.

Blaze knelt and peered down at Robbie's broken, lifeless face.

 _This is it_. _Now you can be free_ — _but_ …

Blaze stole another glance at the man's younger brother who was half-conscious.

 _It will mean_ this _one won't be_.

Blaze reached down and placed his hand along Robbie's cheek, and released his power into Robbie.

" _Wait_ , _what are you doing_?" Zarathos demanded.

" _Goodbye_ , _Z_. _You will no longer haunt me anymore_."

" _No_!"

Zarathos had no control over the transfer, and it wasn't the first time Blaze felt the demon leave his body, but it would be the last—and it felt the most refreshing and freeing.

Robbie's eyes were flung open and his jaw fell to let loose a bloodcurdling scream as Zarathos took possession of his body to use as his new host. Robbie was alive again, but this time with a heavy burden. One that Blaze hoped he would be responsible with.

 _If_ I _was able to come to the same conclusions_ , _so should he_.

Robbie was now in complete Ghost Rider form, screaming up at the sky with a naked skull on fire as a head.

 _I know_. I _think it sucks too_. _But I think you've got this_ , _and you're not alone_.

Blaze didn't waste another minute. He stood back up, and the new Ghost Rider-turned Robbie attempted to grab him by the leg, possibly so that Zarathos could get back inside him but Blaze moved in time to avoid that.

He was done. He was moving on. He couldn't vaporize the demon, but he could pass it along for someone else to overcome it, and he was doing it the only way he knew how.

Ambulances passed him as he rode away.

 _The kid will be fine._ Both _kids_.**

Somewhere In Another Universe…

Wade Wilson, also known by his mercenary name Deadpool, was standing with his arms folded studying someone new that he had met while traveling through multiple universes.

"This is either the best frickin' thing I've ever discovered or the crappiest thing I've ever discovered. God, is there _any_ universe out there besides mine that lets me use some naughty words!?" Wade asked.

"Hello. I am Baymax. Your personal healthcare assistant. I am programmed to assess everyone's healthcare needs," the person Wade was studying said.

"I don't need a healthcare assistant, you bloated marshmallow!" Deadpool claimed. To prove his point, he took up his pistol, drove the barrel into his palm, and blew a bloody hole through it.

"Son of a witch!" He screamed amidst the pain.

"You have shot yourself," Baymax said.

"Oh, really?! What a talented observation."

"On a scale of 1 to 10, how would you rate your pain?" Baymax asked.

Deadpool raised his wounded hand and revealed that the bullet hole was closing itself up and healing itself.

"Negative 10, you worthless balloon!" Deadpool laughed, for his joy was overwhelming knowing that he had the ability to heal himself without Baymax's help. He then looked straight ahead at the invisible audience watching him.

"Oh, hi! You must've turned the page to read what would've been the post-credits ending in a movie. Well this is it! Like what you see?"

Baymax moved to look in the same direction that Deadpool was looking. "What are we looking at?"

Deadpool frowned behind his mask and face-palmed. He put his pistol to his head and pulled the trigger. He didn't care. He was going to heal up anyway.

"On a scale of 1 to—."

 **Final Author's Note: Well, that's it. An entire 13-chapter series about Ghost Rider I did not think I would ever write when I first heard about the character. This series was written more because of a dare than anything else. When it was announced that Ghost Rider would be making an appearance on Marvel's Agents Of S.H.I.E.L.D, I playfully debated with my girlfriend on what kind of a Ghost Rider story I would write if I ever wrote one, and this is the result of a single joking thought. Being a fan of the Marvel Cinematic Universe, I knew that I wanted the story to take place in that same universe, with an effort to combine both some of the tone of the movies and the tone of the Netflix shows (the second because of the story's darker material). The Deadpool nods was more of a joke to surprise my girlfriend than anything else, but they worked so well in my mind that I had to keep them in there.**

 **For acknowledgements, there's really only one, and that same acknowledgement is who I've dedicated this story to. I'd like to thank and dedicate this story to my girlfriend (I'll call her Alex on here). Her encouragement throughout the process of writing this is something truly precious and special and I cannot be more grateful for it. Thank you, sweetheart :)**

 **Now, I'm aware that there are a few things in this story that were left without their ends being tied up. I've entertained the idea of writing a second volume to tie those loose ends up, and it would be a different Ghost Rider too (not Robbie Reyes), but given everything else on my plate right now, that'll be something I'll have to play by ear so if I don't write a second volume, hopefully this was satisfying enough for you guys.**

 **Until next time!**


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